


Like Ripples From a Pebble

by byrhthelm



Category: JAG
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byrhthelm/pseuds/byrhthelm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>: Slightly AU. The reappearance of a face from the past has surprising repercussions that reverberate through JAG.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Early Evening, December 2001  
Harmon Rabb turned into the alley behind the old warehouse and slammed the Lexus' brakes on hard, a "Damn!" of frustration breaking out from between his pursed lips. A strange car had been parked right outside the old warehouse door, dangerously near to the corner of alley and street.  
Checking his rear view mirror, Harm knocked the gear into reverse and cautiously backed up until he had enough room to swing wide around the strange car, a blue Miata MX5, so that he could park in front of it.  
He really didn't this aggravation, not today; he had only made it back from an investigation on board the USS Stennis late last night, to find a telephone from Yeoman Two Tiner that the expected court date for the Anderson case had been moved up by five days, and that he was needed in court this morning at zero nine hundred hours.  
He wasn't totally unprepared, of course, but he could have done with a few hours sleep to put his body clock right after the long flight back from Naples, instead he had been forced to read, read again and then re-read the case file and try and marshal some sort of opening argument.  
Even so, by the time the court went into session, he still had not really been on top of his game, and although he was still confident that he could get the panel to make the guilty finding that Anderson so richly deserved, Mac had given him a rough ride, a really rough ride, today as she had gone all-out to defend her client. The trouble was, Mac knew him well enough to read the signs of his fatigue, and had pulled every trick of which she could think to take advantage of his lack of sleep. In fact she had been so persistent in her filibustering that Judge Sebring had reprimanded her on more than one occasion. And each time she had accepted his remarks with a demurely contrite "Yes, your Honour, sorry," and then turned away from the bench, letting Harm see the smug little smirk that just lifted the corner of her lips.  
He couldn't blame her, he told himself. He would have done – and had done in the past – pretty much the same sort of thing whenever he was lucky enough to catch Mac, or any other opposing attorney, at a disadvantage. What's more, despite the effort it had taken, he had to remain calm and polite after court, he had repeatedly told Mac that what happened in court wasn't personal, and had to stay in court; but today, it had felt personal, dammit! He'd managed to remain polite and professional, not that given the still tenuous state of their renewed relationship, which was still on somewhat shaky ground after the Jagathon. Of course that hadn't been much help in his own defence, when once the court had adjourned for the day that Judge Sebring had informed Admiral Chegwidden of Harm's less than stellar performance and the irascible JAG had called Harm into his office and subjected him to a twenty reaming out, finishing with a warning to Rabb that he had "better damn well get your shit together for the morning!"  
So, as minor an inconvenience as it might be, the awkward parking of the Miata – which somehow looked slightly familiar – was just about enough to knock loose the safety valve on his temper. That safety valve nearly blew when the door of the building opened and he saw, even in the gloom and poor light, a familiar figure in black slacks and a light blue V-neck sweater, her blonde hair pulled back in a pony-tail, step into the alley and open the trunk of the Miata.  
"Lieutenant!" he rapped, "What the hell are you doing here?"  
The blonde spun around, startled, her eyes searching for the interloper. Pale blue eyes focussed on him and for a few seconds a frown appeared on her forehead until her face broke into a somewhat nervous grin and she replied, "Oh, hi... Harm. Do you still live here?"  
Harm's face which had been stern enough before she spoke, now turned into a rigid, icy, mask and when he spoke his voice was cold and reproving, his words emerging from between thin lips, cold, hard and clipped, "You forget yourself, Lieutenant! As well as military protocol. I do not believe that I have ever given you permission to address me as anything but 'sir' or 'Commander'!"  
The frown was back on the blonde's forehead, "Uh... yes, you did... the first day we met you said to call you 'Harm', and why are you calling me 'Lieutenant'?"  
Harm was about to tear the young woman a new six – well, verbally of course – when something about the timbre of her voice made him hold his tongue. It was his turn to frown while he dredged for a more than half-forgotten memory, and then as his brain started firing on all cylinders, memory and with it recognition, returned.  
"Meghan O'Hara!" he gasped, thunderstruck, "but you're dead... or if you aren't dead, you should be in prison!"  
Oh yes, he remembered. He remembered the look of determination on her face as she'd turned her assassin's rifle on him, and he also remembered the look of resignation on her face as she realised she wasn't going to shoot. He remembered the way her shoulders drooped and the way the muzzle of the rifle had started to lower. He remembered the door to the opera box crashing open and how, before he could speak, the Secret Service agent had fired three times, hitting the blonde in the back and shoulder.  
He remembered the fleeting look of surprise on her face just before the impact of the bullets had thrown her forcefully against him. He remembered lowering her gently to the floor, her blood spreading beneath her, he remembered her last few gasps for breath as he fought to staunch her wounds. He remembered her eyes glazing over! Damn it! He remembered her dying in his arms, her blood soaking his dress whites!  
Meg offered a still somewhat timid half-smile, "To quote Mark Twain, 'The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated'," she said.  
"Uh... yeah... obviously..." Harm stammered as he gazed at the woman he'd believed had been buried nearly five years ago. "But... why... how... You're not in prison!" he finally finished.  
"Uh... no... I'm not," Meghan confirmed, her smile gone as she gazed levelly at him.  
Harm pushed his cover to the back of his head and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to ward off what was threatening to become the mother of all headaches. "I don't understand," he complained.  
Meghan gnawed on her bottom lip for a few seconds. "You still haven't told me why you called me 'Lieutenant'," she observed. "Again, obviously you must know someone who looks enough like me to allow you to make that mistake." She shrugged, "If this Lieutenant looks like me it's an understandable mistake to make, I guess; it is dark out here, and that street lamp sure doesn't allow much light into the alley!"  
The two stood peering through the gloom at each other, both temporarily at a loss for words until Meghan spoke again, "Look, this may not be the best timing in the world, but I've got two, maybe three more trips to make to my apartment, once I've done that, what say we sit down and clear the air between us? I really don't want you getting paranoid and calling the cops!"  
She saw a flicker of resolve in his eyes as he started to come back to life, and his hand went almost of its own accord to his jacket pocket.  
"It won't do any good calling them, you know. They'll come here, they'll speak with me, and then they'll go away. I'm not a fugitive, and they will have no grounds to arrest me!"  
"Uh... yeah... OK... but give me an hour... I need to shower and change..."  
"OK..." Meghan looked at her watch, "Say... seven forty-five?" and then a grin split her face, "Your place or mine?"  
Harm shook his head, "Uh... mine... if you don't mind... somehow I doubt yours is ready for visitors yet?" he replied, while knowing that his reluctance to visit Meghan's flat was rooted in the feeling that whatever she might tell him, he would be better able to cope with it in the familiar setting of his apartment. In his comfort zone, he told himself bitterly.  
"Fine, by me," Meghan nodded, "Should I bring coffee?"  
"No... no... I think I can manage that!" Harm mumbled, "Now, if you'll excuse me?"  
By the time Meghan knocked on Harm's door at precisely seven forty-five, Ham had showered, changed, ironed a shirt and pressed his uniform pants ready for the morning. Now in a red plaid flannel shirt and faded jeans he was busy behind the kitchen island making a start on a simple meal.  
At his yell of "Come on in – it's open!" Meghan walked into the apartment and after looking around, saw Harm in the kitchen area and walked towards him.  
As she neared the island, he waved in the general direction of the bar stools ranged around it and said, "Have a seat." His tone was more nearly that of command than invitation, but Meghan figured he was so rattled that she could let it slide, and hitched herself up onto the stool and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the island's surface.  
"Have you eaten?" Harm asked as the water in the large pan came to the boil.  
"No, not yet," Meghan answered, "but it's OK you don't have to go to any effort to..."  
"I'm not." Harm replied shortly, as he dumped an extra handful of tagliatelli into the water and added a drop of olive oil and a shake or two of coarse ground black pepper. "I'm doing a basic pasta and sauce, the pasta only takes a few minutes, I made a batch of the sauce in advance, so it's only an extra couple of spoonfuls of that to warm up, and I just need to pop the bread into the oven!" he concluded, suiting his actions to his words. But to Meghan's surprise, instead of using the main oven, he opened the door on a miniature table-top oven and slid a baguette onto a baking tray.  
Meghan shook her head, "I don't get it, you've got what looks like a professional standard range, but you're using a baby oven?"  
Harm shrugged. "Fuel efficiency, it takes a couple of minutes for that electric oven to heat, but about twenty minutes for the big gas oven to warm up, so..." he shrugged in his turn as he placed a couple of plates on top of the electric oven and then slid a couple of place mats and a handful of silverware onto the island. "If you wouldn't mind?" he asked.  
Meghan set the simple table and nodded as Harm held up a wine bottle with an inquiring lift of his eyebrow. "Yes, thank you." she acknowledged his offer.  
Harm poured two modest glasses of a rich red wine, but rather than immediately taking a sip, he turned to the smaller pan on the stove top and gave it a gentle stir.  
"M'mm... smells good!" Meghan said appreciatively as the sauce's aroma caught her nostrils.  
Harm merely grunted in reply, as he used a slotted server to lift a few strands of pasta from the boiling water and gingerly bit on one strand.  
"OK..." he commented, as he turned the burners off and emptied the pasta to drain in a colander. The plates were rescued from the top of the small oven and pasta and sauce was soon served, just as, with impeccable timing, the electric oven's clock beeped to let them know that the bread was done.  
Harm tore the baguette in two, and the unmistakable smell of garlic and herb butter set Meghan's mouth to watering. "M'mm... this good!" she said enthusiastically as she took a forkful of sauce coated pasta, "What's in it?"  
"Oh, a basic red wine, tomato, garlic, bell peppers and mushroom sauce. It's no big thing," Harm replied, surreptitiously studying his guest as she ate. He hadn't been mistaken, even in the dimly lit alley. She didn't just resemble Loren Singer, she was the fractious Lieutenant's mirror image. He nearly said so, but at the last second bit his tongue, he wanted answers from her, like how she was still alive, and why she wasn't in a Federal Penitentiary somewhere, serving a very long sentence for an attempted murder for hire.  
He determined to wait until they had finished eating, while Meghan was waiting for the storm of questions that she knew was about to break above her head. She hadn't really thought about renewing her acquaintance with Harmon Rabb. If she'd thought about him at all it was only to suppose that in the way things stood in the military, he would have moved on to a new duty station while she had been out of his orbit.  
As the silence grew longer, so the tension in the room rose palpably, until at last as they chased the few remaining scraps of their meal around their plates Harm suggested, "Why don't we got and sit in a comfortable chair and we can talk about the elephant."  
"Sounds good to me," Meghan replied as she laid her knife and fork neatly on her plate.  
"Good!" Harm indicated his battered leather couch and the two arm-chairs, "Go ahead make yourself comfortable, and I'll put the coffee on!"  
Meghan didn't have too long to wait until Harm joined her, she in one of the armchairs and he on the couch. He put the tray off coffee, creamer and sugar on the occasional table and poured two mugs, "Help yourself!" he grunted with a nod in the direction of bowl and jug.  
"No, this is fine as it is," Meghan assured him and picked up her coffee in both hands, taking a sip as she stared across the rim of her mug at Harm only to discover that he was sitting back against the squabs, his eyes half-closed as he studied her.  
"So..." he said at last, as the seconds threatened to stretch into minutes, "How come you're not dead?"  
Meghan shrugged, "Basically because the agent who shot me was a lousy shot. I'm told he fired three times. One bullet missed completely, the other passed between my arm and my body, just scoring the flesh over my ribs, but the third... That was the one that did the damage. It penetrated my shoulder blade and went through my left lung, fortunately missing anything of major importance en-route. The doctors say I was lucky. A quarter of an inch one way, and it would have gone through my heart, a quarter of an inch the other and it would have severed my aorta. It was spectacularly messy I'm told, and the para medics and the surgeons at GW had their work cut out, but they did the trick, and they saved my life."  
"But... I saw you die!" Harm protested, "you went totally limp, and you stopped breathing, your eyes..." he stopped, unable or unwilling to recreate that scene for a second time that evening.  
"Yeah, I went into shock, the doctors say, and went catatonic. Probably a good thing; if I'd stayed conscious, the adrenalin would have had my heart pumping harder and I would probably have bled out!"  
"Yeah... it looked like you did!" Harm agreed fervently, remembering his previous set of dress whites that had had to be burned and the struggle he'd had – unsuccessful at that – to try and get the Navy to reimburse him for the replacement set.  
Harm sat in thought for a good twenty, maybe thirty seconds, although to date he'd been lucky and while he had been shot at, he hadn't been hit, but he knew that bullet wounds were unpredictable. The slightest wound could have dire effects as the bullet ricocheted off bone and skidded through tissue, while what looked like it might be a life threatening wound actually caused very little damage.  
"OK... that explains how come you're still walking around. But how come you're still walking around free?"  
"Ah... this where the tale becomes interesting," Meghan said drily, "I can't tell you the full story. It's highly classified and 'need to know', or so I am told, so I guess if I did tell you, then I'd have to kill you!"  
From anyone else that comment might have been a joke, but remembering their last encounter, Harm felt a shiver run up his spine. "Well tell me what you can, just enough so that I don't, despite your assurances, call the cops anyway!"  
Meg nodded, "Fair enough. After all, you did cook me dinner!" She paused for a moment or two to collect her thoughts, and then took a deep breath before she continued. "When I woke up in hospital, I was cuffed to the bed and there was a whole damned alphabet soup of different agencies wanting to talk to me, Metro PD, Secret Service, FBI, CIA, NCIS, DIA, NSA, IRS, ATF, State Department... hell if you can think of a government agency it was probably there. I was told I was facing a possibility of life inside unless I 'co-operated', so I sang like a canary. Don't look at me like that; I wasn't in the business for any ideological reason, it was the money that made it work for me!"  
Meghan took a sip of her coffee. "Anyway, there must have been some pretty high-level horse-trading going on, because all of a sudden, one day, I was left alone apart from two very smartly suited gentlemen who offered me the chance to stay out jail entirely, if I would agree to work for their particular set of letters for three years." She shrugged, "naturally I agreed. The prospect of three years being told what to do, and heavily supervised while I did it, balanced against thirty, maybe forty years of hard time in a Federal Prison? Hell yes, I accepted. I had to negotiate for a living wage, but they held the whip hand, and so, after my surgery and some months of rehab and physical therapy I went to work for... another government agency, and as a result there are now half a dozen very unpleasant people who are no longer a threat to the USA."  
Meghan saw the flicker of distaste cross Harm's face. "You know what I am, Harm. I'm not apologising for that! But I'm out of that business now... It's time I set my sights on another goal! And the people I took out were responsible for any number of attacks on US assets. But after what happened in September..." a cloud crossed both their faces, "the agency's focus shifted. My primary focus had been in Latin America, and a blonde female isn't going to blend too well into the background in the Middle East. So, my sponsors in the organisation fell out of favour, and I was told that my services were no longer required and that my continued liberty and well being were conditional on my keeping my mouth shut."  
"Your continued well being?" Harm queried a frown on his face.  
"Yeah, I was left with the distinct impression that if I opened my mouth too far or too much, then somebody in my former business would be despatched to... uh... despatch me." Meghan said with a sick smile, "So you see, I have to be very careful about what I say and to whom."  
Harm nodded, "Have you got a dollar on you?" he asked.  
"Uh... yeah... sure," Meghan answered.  
"Give it to me!" Harem demanded.  
Meghan dug her hand into her hip pocket and pulled out a dog-eared leather wallet. She fished a One Dollar Bill out from its interior and leaning forward proffered it to Harm, "OK, but why?" she asked.  
Harm took the bill between two of his fingers, "Well, you've just put me on retainer. Anything you say to me, or have said to me this evening, is now covered by Attorney/Client Privilege. There's nobody in the USA can force me to repeat what you tell me!"  
Meghan nodded in appreciation, a hint of a twinkle appearing in her eye, "Tricky!" she said approvingly.  
"Yeah, well us lawyers..." Harm shrugged, and picking up the coffee pot held it above Meghan's mug.  
"No. No more for me thank you... your coffee's a mite stronger than I usually drink it and I already suspect I'm going to have trouble getting to sleep tonight!"  
Harm nodded and replaced the coffee pot on the tray. "Just a couple of more questions... Why did you decide to come back here. Back to this building, I mean?"  
"Well, it is my apartment!" Meghan said, "I've kept up the rent all the time I've been gone, a lot of my stuff's still here, and when I lost my job, I also lost my comfortable government housing," that bit was added with a huge dollop of sarcasm, "and I don't know if you've noticed, but it's December and it's a little too cold to be spending the nights on the street!"  
"Oh... OK..." Harm looked as if he couldn't quite believe that the woman sitting opposite him and had paid years of rent without living in the property. He suspected some other reason for her sudden return and also suspected that the unidentified government agency for whom she had been working was up to it's spooky ears in it. His profitless thoughts were interrupted.  
"Can I ask you a question?" Meghan asked.  
"Sure, go ahead," Harm shrugged.  
"Now that you've seen me in full light, do I still resemble the Lieutenant whom you thought I was?"  
Meghan's remarkable likeness to Loren Singer had been preying on Harm's mind for most of the evening, and now he gave voice to those thoughts, "No, now I can see you properly, there isn't just a resemblance, you are almost identical. You could be twins!"  
Meghan gasped, and the blood rushed from her face.  
"What? What is it?" Harm demanded urgently, thoughts of anaphylactic shock racing through his mind as he levered himself out of the couch's embrace.  
"I... I am!" Meghan gasped, her eyes suddenly huge.  
"You am... uh...you are what?" Harm asked, sinking back into his seat as some colour returned to Meghan's face.  
"I am a twin!" she told him.  
"What?!" Harm exclaimed, although given the similarities between the two women, this latest revelation should have come as no surprise.  
"Um... yeah... I've got a twin sister... somewhere... in the Navy, possibly?"  
"Possibly!" Harm agreed, "Although we can't just decide that on the basis that you look identical!"  
"Not just look identical, Harm," Meghan objected, "How well do you know this Lieutenant?"  
"Well we... uh... work in the same office, and she's been there about... two years, I guess... maybe a little longer..."  
"So after seeing her every working day for two years, and admitting that the light was poor outside, you still thought when you saw me that you were seeing her?"  
"M'mm... yeah... " Harm seemed to pull himself together, even going so far as to give his head a brief shake. He stood and crossed to his desk and returned carrying a legal pad and a couple of pencils. "Now you said you had a twin 'somewhere' as if you didn't know where she was?"  
"Yeah... our parents split up when we were very young... I don't really remember my mother or my sister at all... so I suppose we were about three years old. I don't know exactly what happened, all I had was my father's version of events. According to him, my mother took off with my sister and left me behind. There was no word from her that I can remember until I was about nearly fourteen when divorce papers arrived for dad to sign, and that was when I learned what I know of the full story. Until then I had always assumed the woman who shared my dad's life was my mom." Meghan took a ruminative sip of her coffee, "God know how she found us, to send the papers, we were always moving from one oil field to another, or to a possible future oil field. Dad was a geologist, and spent his time freelancing; consulting for one or another of the major oil companies, and even some mining companies. We went everywhere! Hell, we even ended up spending sixteen months in Peru... or maybe it was Paraguay... looking at mining prospects..." she shrugged her shoulders.  
"How old were you then?" Harm asked mildly, getting caught up, despite himself, in the narrative as his pencil flew over the paper.  
"Oh, about eight or nine years old, I think," Meghan replied, "Dad didn't want to to take me with him – it was too difficult and too dangerous – and he was going to leave me with his brother. He'd done that a couple of times before, but my uncle had been posted to Okinawa and couldn't take me..."  
"You uncle was in the service?" Harm asked. He didn't know why he should be, but he was surprised at that piece of information.  
"Yeah, he was an officer, a captain or major, I think, in the Marine Corps."  
"Meghan, is O'Hara your real name?" Harm asked, as a light bulb began to glow in the dim recesses of his mind.  
"Of course it is!" Meghan said indignantly, "I know I didn't know you for more than a few days, but I was beginning to look on you as a friend, and I don't lie to my friends!"  
"Apart from lying about being a journalist!" Harm interjected.  
"Ah... yeah... well... that was... that was a part of my working life... my cover story," Meghan said defensively, reddening slightly. "Don't tell me that you haven't had to misrepresent yourself at one time or another! But that would have been 'in the line of duty' I suppose, and that would make it perfectly acceptable!" she finished bitterly.  
"Well, yeah, it does make a difference..." Harm countered, "I wasn't hiding my identity in order to commit a crime, but in order to uncover one!"  
"So... that makes it all right then, does it? The ends justifies the means? God, you men are such hypocrites!" Meghan began to pull herself out of the depths of the arm chair.  
"What are you doing?" Harm asked.  
"This is pointless! I'm going back to my own apartment!"  
"No! Uh... I mean please don't go!" Harm added hastily as he saw Meghan's face assume a closed, pinched expression; one with which he was all too familiar.  
"Why not?" She snapped.  
"Firstly because I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be judgmental. And secondly because there are a couple of mysteries to be solved here, and that's what I do!"  
"What mysteries? All you've said so far is that there's a woman with whom you work looks like me!"  
"That's true. But based on what you've just told me about your father, there's something else niggling at the back of my mind."  
"Like what?" Meghan challenged him.  
"I'm not certain enough to say right now... I would want to raise any false expectations only to have everything fall apart when I discover my initial suspicions were off base and way out in left field! I'd need more information than I have right now to even begin to confirm my admittedly vague suspicions!"  
The earnest quality of Harm's voice got through to the angry young woman, and with a sniff she sank back into her chair. "What sort of information?"  
"Well... do you know where and when you were born?"  
"Yeah, I caught sight of the birth certificate one time – that's how I know I had... have, I suppose... a twin. But, Cincinnati, Ohio, July twenty-fifth nineteen seventy one."  
"OK... and your father's name? Do you know your mother's name?"  
"Yeah... well sort of, my dad was Timothy Michael O'Hara, and my mother's name was Kathleen, or Katherine... I'm not quite sure, but I do know it began with a 'K'."  
"I don't suppose you know her maiden name? Or which name she went by when she left your father?"  
Meghan pursed her lips and shook her head, "Nope, I only made the mistake of asking about her once, after the divorce papers arrived and my dad got so mad... I didn't get a real look at the papers, but maybe... I think her name might have been Skinner, or something like that...You're asking an awful lot of questions, why?"  
"Because I need to check facts and sift the evidence, before I can make an informed judgement!"  
"Always the lawyer, hey?" Meg quipped, but not unkindly.  
"Yeah, hey, it's what I do!" Harm agreed with the hint of a grin. "You've given me quite a bit to work on, so unless you can... or... what was your uncle's name, the one in the service?"  
"Oh, that was my uncle Matthew... but I've lost touch with him... well I've lost touch with everyone from my childhood. It was kind of necessary... you know?"  
"No, I don't, but I guess it makes sense." Harm absently nodded his agreement, his mind whirling, 'Matthew O'Hara, an officer in the USMC? Nah... it couldn't be, could it...? Oh God,' he told himself, 'if I'm right in what I'm beginning to think, then not only is Meghan Lieutenant Singer's sister, but they're both Mac's cousins! Holy crap!'  
"Uh... Harm, are you all right?" Meghan asked, as the silence became prolonged for a second time that evening.  
"Uh... yeah... well, kind of... You know when you toss a pebble into a pond, how the ripples spread out in concentric circles and if the pebble is big enough, then they seem to go on and on for ever?"  
"Yeah..."  
"Well, if I'm right, what you've told me this evening isn't just a pebble, it's a damned great boulder!"  
"What do you mean?" Meghan asked sitting forward on the edge of her chair.  
"Like I said, I can't say anything now, in case I'm wrong... but I'll get some checking done and get back to you as soon as I can." He consulted the notes he'd been taking and said, "Oh, just one last question – for this session anyway – was your uncle married, and if so, do you know his wife's name?"  
"Uh... yeah, he was married and my aunt's name was Constance..." a shadow passed over Megn's face, "she died while they were in Okinawa, I guess that's one of the reasons, the main reason, I guess, why we lost contact..."  
Harm nodded again, and once more lapsed into silence.  
"Harm?" Meghan asked  
"Oh... sorry... I was just thinking about the ramifications, and possible consequences of what you've just told me..."  
"It could have that much of an impact?" Meghan said, surprised.  
"Yeah, like I told you, a monster great boulder tossed into a pond! Look, I've got a whole heap of thinking to do, and plus I really need to get ready for court tomorrow, so... I know it's going to sound ungracious but..."  
"No... you're right.. and I've still got a mess of unpacking to do. Thanks for dinner... and the company. That's something I've been a bit short on just recently," Meghan said as she stood, "No, don't get up, I'll see myself out and... I was a bit reluctant at first, but your 'mysteries' are beginning to get me hooked, so you'll keep me up to date?"  
"Of course!" Harm said, getting to his feet and despite her protest walking with her to the door. "As soon as I learn anything substantial, I'll be knocking on your door!"  
"Good! I look forward to it" Meghan smiled and to Harm's surprise, the smile held what he was almost certain was a marked degree of shyness in it.  
"Oh... one last thing," Harm said as Meghan stepped through the door. "I probably don't have to remind you that this isn't exactly the safest neighbourhood in DC, so make sure you're properly secured – doors and windows – before you settle down for the night!"  
"No, I hadn't forgotten, but thank you!" Meghan said.  
Harm waited until she took the stairway down the one floor and then closed and dropped the deadlock on his own door. For a moment he stood rubbing his chin in an indecisive manner, and then with a sigh, he crossed to his desk, and picking up the 'phone he dialled a very familiar number, and stood fretting impatiently while he waited for an answer.  
"Hello?"  
"Hey Mac, it's Harm... I need to talk with you before we go into court tomorrow. Can you make it in say half an hour early, about zero six-thirty?"  
"Aw... is the poor little squid hurting after the big bad marine wiped the floor with his ass today?"  
"Huh? Oh... no... no... What I want to talk about has absolutely nothing to do with Lieutenant Anderson!"  
"H'mm... well what is it then?"  
"Mac I really can't talk abut this over the 'phone. It really needs to be a face to face..."  
"Sounds intriguing!" Mac said lightly.  
"Well, I hope you think so if this whole thing shapes the way I think it might!" Harm replied wearily.  
"Oh... " Mac's voice lost its teasing tone as she continued, "Sounds heavy, should I come over now?"  
"No... don't do that... I've still got the kitchen to square away, and then I've got a lot of notes to put in order, and then I've got to figure out how I'm going to do some floor wiping with a big bad marine's six in the morning!"  
"That's not going to happen!" Mac said determinedly.  
"O yeah? We'll see!"  
"In your dreams, Flyboy!"  
"I've told you before, Mac, you don't want to be in my dreams! See you at six thirty?"  
"Six thirty, Harm... oh, and ... sweet dreams!"

0629 hours (local) the next morning  
"Good morning sir!" Lance Corporal Somers greeted him as he signed in at the JAG CP, "Colonel MacKenzie arrived about five minutes ago, and said she'd be in the galley in Ops, sir!"  
"Thank you, Lance Corporal," Harm smiled as he signed in and clipped his building pass and ID to his lapel. He headed for the elevator, the smile still on his lips, as he he considered that his plan was working well – so far! He had known that Mac would arrive before him, and being who she was, he also knew that she'd make a beeline for the galley and for the coffee pot, so if he'd timed it right, and he was pretty sure he had, the coffee would be just about made by the time he arrived in Ops.  
He had and it was. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee assailed his nostrils the minute he walked into the bull pen. With his trademark cocky grin in place, he dropped his cover and brief case on an unoccupied desk and made straight for the galley.  
"'Morning, Mac," he greeted his partner and adversary.  
"Good morning," she returned his greeting and gently slid a mug of steaming black liquid towards him. "I see that fresh coffee is about the only thing that your sense of timing has down pat!"  
"Hey, what can I say?" he grinned, ignoring the glare that he received in response. "Shall we adjourn to my office," he suggested, "this place is just a little too public for what I want to talk with you about."  
Her curiosity firing on all cylinders, Mac asked, "What's this all about, Harm?"  
"My office!" he repeated and strode back out across the bull pen.  
Mac shot an angry glare at him which bounced unseen off his broad shoulders, and with sigh of aggravation, she picked up her coffee and followed him.  
Harm juggled cup, cover and brief case and opening the door he placed all three on his desk and turning said, take a seat, please, Mac."  
Mac did so, placing her coffee on the front edge of his desk, and cocked her head attentively.  
Harm settled back in his chair, now that he was face to face with her, he wasn't quite sure how to begin. But a deep breath later, he squared his shoulders and took the bull by the horns, "Mac, how much do you know about your uncle Matt's family?"  
"What do you mean?" she asked in turn, a puzzled expression creasing her forehead.  
"Well, I assume you knew his wife?"  
"Oh... only slightly, she died while they were overseas, I was around thirteen, maybe fourteen when she died. I know it wasn't that long before my mother walked out on Dad and me" Mac offered a bitter smile, "She died in Okinawa; that place seems like it's bad luck for our family!"  
Harm nodded in sympathy, "Do you know... of course you do!" He corrected himself, "What was your aunt's name?"  
"She was Aunt Connie... so I suppose Constance..." Mac's face took on a troubled expression. "What's this all about, Harm?"  
"I'm not quite sure, Mac. Something, or rather, an unexpected someone, whom I... and I'm sure you, thought was dead has suddenly reappeared. We... uh... we had quite a long talk last night, and she told me some things that need checking out. Some of her story seems to be classified, and then she put me on retainer as her attorney, you know what that means: everything she told me is covered by Attorney/Client Privilege. I'm not sure how much I can trust her, so what little she has told me, I'm checking out. Now," he continued without giving Mac a chance to respond, "I know your uncle Matt had a sister – your mother – did he have any other siblings, that you know of?"  
"Uh..." Mac thought for a moment or two, "Yeah, there was a younger brother, Tim. He wasn't around much, he was something to do with mining, and I think I only ever met him once, maybe twice. Then when mom ran out on us, we lost what little contact we had. Dad wouldn't have anything to do with her family. Even distanced Uncle Matt from me for a while, four years, in fact. But you didn't answer me! What's going on, and who is this mysterious 'she' that's got you firing off all these questions.  
"Mac, do you remember Princess Alexi?"  
"Yeah... from about five years ago... just after Valentine's wasn't it?"  
"Yeah. The assassin who tried to shoot her was taken out by the Secret Service, and we were told she'd died. Hell, I was there. I watched her die!" Harm exclaimed, still not quite able to believe that Meghan was back among the living, and free from jail. "Well, she didn't die. She's moved back into her old apartment, the floor below mine."  
"Yeah, OK... but what's that got to do with me and Uncle Matt?" Mac demanded.  
"I never did tell you the name she was using at the time, did I?" Harm mused. "Well, turns out she was using her own name. So, if she's telling me the truth, her name is Meghan O'Hara, and she claims to be the daughter of Tim and Kathleen or Katherine O'Hara, which if her story checks out would mean that she's your cousin..."  
Mac went pale and shot to her feet, "That's not funny,Harm!" she gritted out between her teeth. "I know you were tired yesterday, and that I took advantage of that, but trying to mess with my head with something like this is... is... despicable and... and unworthy of you!"  
Harm spread his hands placatingly, "Mac, Mac, believe me, I am not doing this to try and mess with you. This is kosher I promise you – at least as kosher as it can be until I can check the facts. I'm just trying to give you a heads up here!"  
Mac shook her head, "Harm, even if this woman is who you claim is who she says she is, why isn't she in prison for attempted murder?" she asked in bewildered tone.  
"That's where the story becomes murky," Harm said, "According to her, she was co-opted, under penalty of life without parole, into a government agency that reckoned her talents would be useful, but now she's no longer useful, so she's been cut loose."  
"What agency?" Mac challenged.  
"Classified and need to know, apparently," Harm said with a wry grimace, "but we've both heard those sorts of words before..."  
"Webb!" Mac spat put.  
"Exactly." Harm agreed, "And she did say that State was one of the agencies waiting to interview her when she pulled through her surgery."  
"For State read CIA?" Mac queried.  
"I reckon." Harm nodded.  
Mac pursed her lips, "Well... I seem to have a slightly better rapport Webb than you do..."  
"Yeah, see if you can get anything out of him. In the meantime, I'm going to get Gunny to do some checking on his network before he ships out!"  
Mac drained her coffee mug and stood, smoothing the horizontal creases in her skirt as she did so. "Well, you've given me a bit to think about, Harm, but I'm going to have to put it on the back-burner until after the verdict! See you in court, counsellor!"  
"Oh... you will that. You will indeed!" Harm said quietly as he watched her walk away, and then, "Damn!" Once again she had left her empty coffee mug on his desk!

"How the hell did you pull that off?" Mac asked in an aggrieved tone, as the MPs led Lieutenant Anderson out of the court room to start a six year sentence before he was dismissed from the service.  
"Ah... I gave you fair warning!" Harm grinned. "I told you last night that I was going to use your marine green six as a mop for the court room floor!"  
"Squids!" Mac snorted as she stalked down the hall way, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor, leaving Harm behind, a grin, a true, aviator's cocky grin spread across his face.  
Whistling 'Anchors Aweigh' as he crossed the bull pen, he drew answering grins from Harriet Sims and the enlisted on the floor, but a fulminating, albeit brief glare from the Lieutenant Colonel of Marines as she turned on her heel, stormed into her office and slammed the door behind her.  
"Pushing buttons, again, Commander?" his CO's voice, coming from behind him, was mildly reproving.  
"No sir!" Harm answered quickly, as he spun around to face Admiral Chegwidden. "It's just that the Colonel, for some reason known only unto her, expected to get an acquittal for Lieutenant Anderson, not the six years and the dismissal he actually got!"  
"Good to see you back in the game, Commander!" Chegwidden congratulated his junior officer, "but a tee'd off Marine is not something I want to see too often at JAG, so try not to rub her nose in it..." he paused for a second or two, "too much!"  
"Aye, aye, sir!" Harm replied enthusiastically, coming up to a full brace.  
Chegwidden allowed himself the merest hint of a grin, "Carry on, Commander, you did all right today!"  
Harm grinned, paused and about-faced, Chegwidden's "You did all right," was about as much praise that any of his attorneys was likely to get from the crusty former SeAL.  
Still with the grin, but minus the whistle, Harm continued towards his intended destination, one of the smaller offices at the far end of the bull pen. Nodding in gratification as he spotted his intended target at her desk, he rapped smartly on the door frame.  
Lieutenant Loren Singer looked up from the case file from which she'd been taking notes, and having identified her visitor, hastily rose to her feet, "Yes, sir?" she inquired formally.  
"Can you spare a few moments, Lieutenant?"  
"Of course, sir, please come in and take a seat!" she answered calmly enough but seething inwardly. She did have the time, but she didn't have the inclination, although she had protested her innocence over the matter of the mishap report that had found its way into the Bitch Colonel's car, she had the feeling that the Commander didn't believe her, and it irked her that he didn't. She may have been ambitious, scheming, conniving even, ruthless and pushy, but as she had told him on that occasion, she was neither a thief nor a liar.  
She waited until Harm had settled himself in one of her visitors' chairs, taking a legal pad out of his brief case as he did so, before she re-took her seat, and with an air of helpfulness, she asked, "What can I do for you, Commander?"  
Harm regarded her with some suspicion. He was conflicted over the way he felt about her. For all her faults, she had the makings of a fine attorney, she had a dagger keen mind a retentive memory, she was certainly goal oriented, but she needed to take care that she didn't become target fixated. But more, much more than that, she needed to completely rethink her approach to personal skills. Furthermore, as prickly as she could be, he would need to handle this situation carefully, very carefully.  
"Lieutenant, I am in the middle of an investigation, which may or may not involve you – only on the periphery, you are not the focus of the investigation, I assure you!" he added as he saw the alarmed expression that leaped to her face.  
"As a result, I do have some questions for you, but they do not concern you as a Lieutenant in the Navy, but are more to do with your life pre-Navy."  
This time Harm could see the walls going up, and the shutters closing. "My life before I joined the Navy is nobody's business but my own!" she declared, and then as Harm's eyebrows started to rise she hastily added, "With respect, sir!"  
"Lieutenant, I am well aware how zealously you guard your privacy, and I really wish that I didn't have to pry into your life. But unfortunately, this investigation that I'm in the middle of, has ramifications that I, as yet, cannot see the end of. It may even touch on national security. So... it is classified, and on a need to know basis." He shrugged "I wish I could tell you more, but..." he let his voice trail away and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.  
Loren Singer regarded him expressionlessly. As far as she knew, Harmon Rabb had never lied to her. He might have kept the odd item of information from her, but he had never out and out lied to her. With an inward sigh, she accepted that if she wanted him to trust her, then she would have to trust him too.  
"Go ahead then, sir!" she said resignedly.  
"Before I do, I am well aware that I could get quite a few of the answers I need from your SRB, but I'd rather come to you than have you suspect me of digging around behind your back." He tried the effect of a smile, "As I said, you are not the focus of the investigation." He waited for a response, but the aggravating Lieutenant merely sat there, her hands folded on the desk in front of her in an attitude of demure anticipation.  
Fighting down the sense of irritation which rose in him so easily when he dealt with Lieutenant Singer, Harm first asked the questions that he knew could be verified from her SRB, "What is the date of your birth, Lieutenant?"  
"July twenty-sixth, seventy one, sir!"  
Harm blinked, and re-checked his notes, "Are you sure of that?" he asked.  
"Of course I am, sir!" Loren threw him a withering look. "Cincinnati, Ohio, July twenty sixth, seventy one, at zero, zero forty one hours, sir!"  
"Ah... early hours of the morning! That explains that!" Harm muttered  
"Pardon, sir?"  
"Oh... oh... no... nothing Lieutenant, it was just that I was expecting to hear July twenty-fifth!"  
Loren Singer knitted her brow in a puzzled frown, "I don't understand, sir." she complained.  
"And I can't tell you anything, just yet, Lieutenant. Please bear with me for a little while!"  
Loren let her face drop into a dissatisfied pout, "Very well, sir!"  
"What can you tell me of your early childhood?"  
"Nothing much..." Loren's voice became cold and distant, and to Harm's eyes it looked like her eyes were also focussing on something a long way off, or a long time ago. "For as far back as I can remember there was just my mom and me... at first we moved around a lot. I went to elementary schools in Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, and then there was a string of 'uncles'. Some stayed for a time, others just for a night or two... Until Uncle Petey arrived. He stayed... oh, he stayed a long time..."  
"What about your father?" Harm asked gently, having picked up on a hint of something painful in the Lieutenant's past, and not wanting to rip open old, healed scars, if such scars ever really healed.  
Loren shrugged, "I never knew him... I always figured that mom was a single mom... she went years carefully clipping coupons out of newspapers to get twenty cents off here, a quarter off there..." she shrugged. "I didn't know any better, until I was about fourteen, when mom and Uncle Petey decided to get married, and it turned out that mom was already married, and had to get a divorce."  
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Harm said, "Just a couple more questions... did your mother have any other family that you knew of?"  
"No... no family at all, until I heard about the need for the divorce."  
"Did your mother say whether or not if her husband – former husband – was your father?"  
"No... I just assumed he was. I don't know why; after all, she went from 'uncle' to 'uncle' easily enough!" Loren said bitterly.  
Harm winced, "Last question, Lieutenant, what name did your mother go by?"  
"Oh..." for once the surprise on Loren's face was open and honest, "By her own name, Kathleen Singer!"  
Harm made one more note on his legal pad, and stood, Loren following suit, "Thank you for your time, Lieutenant! You have been a great help and once I get this sorted out, I'll bring you as much up to speed as I can!"  
A still puzzled and intensely curious Loren Singer, could only stand and say, "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"


	2. Chapter 2

The Next Day, Mid-Morning  
Harm groaned as his concentration was broken by the shrill, insistent voice of his cell phone. Digging it out of his pocket, he checked the caller ID, and seeing that it was Mac, he decided against his first impulse to turn the damned thing off, and opening it he said, "Yes, Mac?"  
"Hi to you too, Harm! You might sound a little more enthusiastic!"  
"Sorry, Mac... it's just that I'm up to my ears in this damned DoD case... Wilson – the skipper of the Chesapeake..."  
"Oh... the submarine captain who nearly sank that Norwegian cruise liner?"  
"Yeah... it'd not so much a case of he said, she said, but it's all the navigation notes, ship's logs and stuff. Wilson says it'll clear him, but I can't make head nor tail of half of it!"  
"Aw... poor little flyboy... can't understand the real navy, is that it?" Harm grimaced he could hear the unholy amusement in Mac's voice.  
"Very funny, Mac! What can I do for you?"  
"It's the other way round, Harm." Mac's voice lost it's teasing note. "I've just left Langley. You'll be surprised to hear that Webb wasn't very forthcoming... I swear if one more person today says 'need to know', I will not be responsible for my actions! However, he did confirm that Meghan O'Hara is a free citizen, without even an arrest record!"  
Harm whistled softly, "Damn! There's been some major string pulling there!"  
"You bet, he even showed me that there's no records of her on any police or agency data base. Not even a speeding ticket!"

Five Days Later, Early Afternoon  
Harm was intercepted on his way back from lunch to his office by Gunnery Sergeant Galindez, a slim sheaf of papers in his hand, "I did some digging around, like you asked me, sir, but it's mixed news..."  
"Not here, Gunny, too many ears. My office, please!"  
"Aye, aye, sir... sorry, sir!"  
Harm took his seat behind his desk, and indicated that the Marine Staff NCO should take one of the visitors chairs, "What have you got Gunny?"  
Galindez laid the first piece of paper on Harm's desk. "Copy of a marriage licence for Timothy Lucas O'Hara, geologist, and Kathleen Mary Singer, elementary teacher, at Saint Mary's Episcopal Church, Hillsboro, Ohio on May twenty seventh, nineteen seventy."  
Harm picked up the document and examined it, it was obviously a faxed copy of the original.  
"Don't lose that sir!" Galindez cautioned him, "I had to call in a lot of markers to get that!"  
"Don't worry, Gunny! This piece of paper could have an impact on lots of things and people, I intend to guard it as if it might be a question of National Security!"  
The Marine grinned, but the grin faded as he realised the Navy officer the side of the desk wasn't joking. "Yes, sir! " he said soberly. "Next up, two Certificates of Live Birth from the Samaritan Hospital, Cincinnati, Ohio. This was a bit tricky, sir. You gave me the tip to concentrate on multiple births. Well this was a multiple birth, but one either side of midnight, so although they were twins, they have different birthdays. Cute, ain't it,sir?"  
"I hope it turns out that way, Gunny!" Harm said fervently. "The certificates give names to the babies?"  
"Yes, sir. Baby one, the one born before midnight, Meghan Anne O'Hara; the one born after midnight, Loren Maria O'Hara... both born to Timothy and Kathleen O'Hara..." The Gunny's voice faded into silence and his dark eyes darted back to the copy of the marriage certificate, "Holy shit, sir! Loren O'Hara is the daughter of Kathleen Singer... that was her name before she got married to this O'Hara guy, and we've got a Loren Singer – Lieutenant Singer, I mean, sir! Do you think...?"  
Harm nodded, "Probably, Gunny." His gloomy countenance sobered the Gunnery Sergeant quickly enough, and he passed a third sheet of paper across to Harm, "That's the record of the SSNs allocated to the twins, sir."  
Harm switched screens on his computer and called up Lieutenant Singer's SRB. There it was in black and white, the Social Security Number on the screen matched the one on the page. Of course, that was only an indication, stolen SSNs weren't exactly a rarity in the world, but it was a pretty strong indicator, nevertheless.  
"It's a match Gunny! Well done!"  
"So, Lieutenant Singer is really Lieutenant O'Hara, sir?"  
"It's beginning to look that way, Gunny, but remember this still to be kept between us!" he could only hope that Galindez would do as he'd been asked, and keep his mouth shut. It shouldn't be a problem, the Gunny was taciturn by nature, and was too well disciplined to betray a confidence. Even so, "Remember Gunny, what you have discovered must positively not go beyond the four walls of this office. I mean my office, Gunny, not the whole of JAG!"  
"Of course not, sir!" Galindez sounded faintly offended.  
"No, of course not, Gunny!" Harm said with an apologetic smile, "And Gunny, thanks for everything!"  
"My privilege, sir!" Galindez said, still a bit stiffly, as he got up from his chair, recognising the dismissal in Harms voice. Coming to a brace, he held for a second or two, and then executed a crisp left-face and opening the door, headed back to his own desk in the bull-pen  
Harm sighed, and picked up the 'phone, with what he had in front of him when taken with the verbal evidence of Meghan and Loren was pretty well enough to satisfy any doubts about the connection between the two blondes. However the addition of a possible link to MacKenzie only made an already tricky situation more volatile. He had some idea how Mac would react to the news that Meghan O'Hara definitely was her cousin, but he had no doubt about how the quick on the trigger Marine attorney would react to the news that she was also Loren Singer's cousin. And the blonde Lieutenant, given her prickly nature, was almost certain to meet fire with fire! Still it had to be done.  
Flicking through his contact list, he found the number he wanted, and carefully punched it to his phone. The phone on the other end rang four times before it was picked up.  
"Prisoners' Welfare Office, Master Sergeant Gilray, sir!"  
"Good afternoon, Master Sergeant. I'm Commander Rabb from Navy JAG Corps Headquarters in DC. Is the Welfare Officer at his desk this afternoon?"  
"Yes, sir! I'll check to see if he can take your call! Please hold the line!"  
There were a couple of clicks followed by a few seconds' worth of buzzing before Harm heard two more clicks and then a new voice in his ear.  
"Major Fredrickson speaking, Commander. How may we help the Navy's JAG today?"  
"I need to speak with Colonel Matthew O'Hara on a family matter, quite urgently, today preferably."  
"Are you a member of the O'Hara family, Commander?"  
"No... I'm not. I defended Colonel O'Hara at his court Martial, but at the moment I am representing a member of the family." Harm had picked up the hesitation in Fredrickson's voice, "It's not bad news, Major, in fact, I hope it's very good news, but before I can definitely say one way or the other, I need to get some corroborating information from the Colonel!"  
"I see. Very well, Commander, I'll call you back... and then we can talk about getting O'Hara to a phone."  
"Great, thanks... my number is..."  
"No, don't tell me your number, Commander, looking it up from this end is one of the ways I can tell whether you and your call are genuine. I should be back with you in no more than ten minutes!"  
"Thank you, Major. I'll expect your call."

Harm was still concerned as he drove home that evening. The conversation with Matt O'Hara had gone pretty much as well as he'd hoped it would. Colonel O'Hara had been married to Constance O'Hara, who had died while he was a Captain stationed in Okinawa. Yes, he had a brother Timothy, who was an oil and mining prospector, who had married a Kathleen, but he couldn't remember the woman's maiden name, and yes, Tim had had twin girls born in Ohio, but the marriage had broken up a couple of years, maybe three, maybe as much as four years later, and Kathleen had attempted to take the girls with her, but Tim had come home unexpectedly during the middle of the kidnap attempt and Kathleen had abandoned the second baby and fled with the other. Matt had ended his story with the caveat that all the information he had came from just one side of the story, so he couldn't vouch for it's accuracy. And no, regrettably, he couldn't put Harm in touch with his brother. Tim O'Hara had died some years previously, when the chartered plane in which he was a passenger had gone down over the Peruvian Andes.  
Harm shook his head in indecision. Barring a DNA test to prove conclusively that Meghan and Loren were full sisters, that half of the puzzle was solved, and quite honestly, he wasn't really concerned about how they might react to each other.  
The Mac angle on the other hand, although almost as conclusively proved as the O'Hara/Singer side did concern him. Apart from Mac's probable reaction, he didn't want to see his relationship with his partner go back down the pan.  
On the other hand, if he didn't tell here, and she was to find out later, then her probable anger would be directed at him, and not at anyone else. Mind, he thought gloomily, it will probably end up being aimed at him anyway!  
By the time he'd reached the converted warehouse he had decided to at least bring the two sisters together. And he had decided to do it at JAG, at least there they would be forced to maintain some degree of decorum, he shuddered to think what might happen if they met somewhere where they weren't bound by protocol.  
Accordingly, when he had left the office he had ensured that he had in his brief case all the documents that Gunnery Sergeant Galindez had acquired on his behalf. Now, licking suddenly dry lips, he knocked on the door of Meghan O'Hara's apartment. He saw a blink of light in the Judas hole, hastily cut off, and he knew that he was being checked before Meghan opened the door, and he nodded approvingly. The one nod was all he had time for, the door opened, and Meg, in a lavender shirt and a black knee length skirt was smiling up at him in welcome.  
"Come on in Harm I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me!" she said stepping back from the door. "Can I offer you a coffee... It's reasonably fresh!"  
"Uh... yeah, thanks." Harm looked around for somewhere to deposit his cover and saw that the side table was occupied by what looked suspiciously like a gun case.  
"I thought you'd given that up?" he said in a voice full of disapproval.  
Meghan looked puzzled for a moment, and then her brow cleared, "Oh... I have! Come and have a look at the tools of what I hope is going to be my new trade!" She crossed to the metal case and flicked the catches open.  
Harm caught his breath as he joined her. That was unmistakably a rifle butt, but the rest of the case held, firmly clasped in cut outs, a pair of top of the range Nikon SLR Cameras, and a selection of lenses of varying lengths. One that caught his eye, must have been five hundred millimetres at least. "Well," he grinned, "this bad boy," he indicated the long lens "explains the rifle butt! But what are you setting up as, a paparazza or a PI?"  
"No... I'm not targeting people any more, I told you that. No, I thought I'd put my sniping skills to good use, and try my hand as a wild-life photographer."  
"There's more to sniping than just being a good shot. It's pretty niche profession, and it won't be easy. It'll be even harder if you can't get close enough, or get too impatient to make the shot."  
"Yeah, I know that; that last part of your little speech sounded just like my sniper instructor!"  
Harm grinned, "Sounds like they give the same speech to everyone!" He was dying to ask her who her instructor had been, but was almost one hundred per cent certain that he's get a 'need to know' as his only answer.  
"Well, if you know the risks – the financial risks, I mean – of your new interest, then go for it, I say."  
Meghan nodded, "Yeah, it'll be good to exercise those skills and not have to... well..." she shrugged, "you know. But let's not get morbid! Am I to understand that your unheralded appearance at my door means that you've got some information for me?"  
"Yeah, I do..."  
"Good, come and sit down, and I'll get that coffee I promised you!"  
Harm sat in the arm chair she'd indicated and waited until Meghan returned, carrying two cups of coffee. "I noticed the other night that you prefer your coffee black, too. Do I have that right?"  
"Yeah, thank you." Harm took the coffee and watched as she sat on the couch, her feet tucked up sideways under her butt in the manner that no mere male could possibly imitate, and that he noticed in passing caused her skirt to ride a little up her legs. Pretty legs, too, he mused.  
Giving himself a mental shake, and leaving his coffee on the end table, he bent down and picked up his brief case, "OK, like I said I would, I did some checking on the stuff you told me. I checked records, I checked with Lieutenant... well, I checked what I could of your story with what she could remember of hers, and then I checked with your Uncle Matthew..."  
"You know my uncle Matthew? You know where he is?" Meghan demanded.  
"Uh... yeah, he's in Leavenworth... he was convicted of stealing the Declaration of Independence..." Harm answered somewhat uneasily.  
"Oh yeah... I read about that, but I never made the connection! Oh, wow, Uncle Matt! Way to go!"  
"Meghan!" Harm reproved her.  
"Yeah, I know! I'm not into that sort of thing any more – but damn, if you're going to go down! You gotta admit that was some kind of chutzpah!" Meghan was still shaking her head in amazed disbelief.  
"Yeah, maybe, but he broke the law, and now he's paying for it!" Harm reminded her, "And that could so easily have been you too!" He stared levelly at her for a long moment before he continued, "OK, so back to the business in hand. When I spoke to the Lieutenant, I only told her that I was carrying out an investigation into someone or something else, and stonewalled her when she wanted to know more, told her that there were possible implications regarding national security. I did not tell her about you. That decision has to come from you, but for what it's worth, and without final confirmation by a DNA test, I am satisfied that you and she are sisters.  
"Oh... wow..." Meghan breathed... "my sister..."  
Harm sat in silence as he watched the blonde absorb the news and drank his coffee.  
Meghan spent the next couple of minutes staring into space while she tried to come to terms with the maelstrom of feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. Sure, over the last few days, she'd tried to imagine her reactions if Harm's suspicions turned out to be based on fact, but now they were, she didn't know whether she felt anxious, pleased, excited, scared, or even angry. At a loss, she turned back towards Harm. "What do I do?" she asked.  
"How do you mean?"  
"Well... I'm not sure... it's exciting, yeah, but it's scary. What if we meet and we decide we don't like each other... Wouldn't it be better if we just sort of went on the way we are right now?"  
"I can't tell you that," he replied, "Whatever you do, it's got to be your decision."  
"Will you tell her about me? If I don't want to meet her?"  
"Yes, I think I'd have to tell here. From what I gather she's pretty much on her own, even if you don't want to meet with each other, just knowing the other is out there might help..."  
"OK. I'll meet with her. When can you arrange it?"  
"I need to speak with my CO, first thing in the morning, and I need to check the Lieutenant's schedule, so if I give you a call sometime tomorrow morning, can you get to JAG HQ at Falls Church by fourteen hun... uh... two in the afternoon?"  
"I know the twenty-four clock, Harm, and yes, I can get to Falls Church by fourteen hundred"  
"OK, here's my card... give me a call on my cell, so that I have your number, and I'll call you back sometime in the morning."  
Meghan took the card and duly dialled Harm's cell, and once satisfied that he had her number, he collected his cover and brief case and with a "Thanks for the coffee," and a brief smile he let himself out of Meghan's apartment, leaving her, despite her decision to meet the mysterious blonde lieutenant, still a prey to doubts and indecisions.

The Next Morning  
"Tiner, can you find out if the Admiral has a few minutes free to see me, please?"  
"Of course, sir!" The Admiral's Yeoman toggled the intercom switch and waited.  
"Yes, Tiner?" Admiral Chegwidden' voice expressed resignation at his Yeoman's interruption to whatever he was doing.  
"Sir, Commander Rabb wants know if you can spare him a few minutes?"  
A few seconds' pause was followed by an audible sigh. "Very well, send him on in!"  
"Aye, aye, sir!" Tiner looked up at Harm, "The Admiral says to go on in. sir!"  
"Yeah, thanks, Tiner!"  
Harm took a breath, banged the door frame with his fist and waited...  
"Enter!"  
Harm stepped quickly across the space between the door and desk, "Thank you for seeing me, sir!" he greeted his CO.  
"H'mph!" the Admiral snorted, "Take the weight off your feet and tell me what's on your mind, Mister Rabb!"!  
Harm set, placing his file folder on his knees, "Sir, does the name Meghan O'Hara mean anything to you?"  
Chegwidden frowned, "No Mister Rabb, it does not! And I do not have time to indulge in parlour games! Who is Meghan O'Hara?"  
"Meghan O'Hara, sir, is the assassin who tried to shoot Princess Alexandria of Romania, when she and her father were here, nearly five years ago."  
"Yeah... I remember... wasn't she killed in the attempt... And somehow, you got her blood all over you and tried to stiff the Navy for a new suit of Dress Whites!" He added in accusatory tone.  
Harm decided to let the Admiral's rider pass without comment, "Well sir, it seems that the report of her death was a trifle premature. She was wounded, but survived, and then spent the next three and a bit years working for a so far unidentified government agency, which has the ability and the clout to wipe clean her record. She hasn't even got a speeding ticket against her name!"  
"No doubt this is all very interesting, Mister Rabb, but why should it interest me... come to that why should it interest you?"  
"Sir, I have been troubled by Lieutenant Singer, ever since she transferred in..."  
"Haven't we all, Mister Rabb?" Chegwidden interrupted sardonically.  
"Yes sir, but I meant that I always had the feeling that I'd met the lieutenant somewhere before, but try as I might, I couldn't remember where or when."  
"There is a chance that you'll get to the point, Mister Rabb?"  
"Yes sir! A few days ago, when I got home, I found Lieutenant Singer moving into the same apartment block... I... uh... wasn't in the best of places mentally... it was the first day of the Anderson Court Martial..."  
"Yeah, I remember that day... go on!"  
"Anyway sir, I challenged her presence – I really don't want Loren Singer as a neighbour!"  
"Understandable."  
"It turned out that it wasn't Loren Singer, it was Meghan O'Hara, moving back into her old apartment."  
"I still don't see your point, Mister Rabb. Kindly hurry... wait a moment! Are you trying to tell me that this O'Hara woman looks enough like Loren Singer for you to mistake her identity?"  
"Yes, sir, but it's more than..."  
"This was after secure, after dusk?"  
"Yes, sir, but..."  
"So, in poor visibility, this... O'Hara looks enough like Singer to fool you? That's a relief, the thought of two Singers..." The Admiral paused, lost his grin and his eyes hardened, "I still don't see what this has got to do with me... or you for that matter!"  
"I was getting to that, sir!" Harm replied in an injured tone of voice. "I was so taken aback when I realised who she is, that I... uh... sat down and had a conversation with her, during that conversation I mentioned that she and Singer were alike as two pods, in fact they were sufficiently alike to be twins – identical twins, sir.. To cut a long story short sir, and having done a little digging, we are as certain as we can be without a DNA test, that she is in fact Lieutenant Singer's sister – her twin sister, sir!  
Chegwidden sat quiet stunned into silence by Harms' revelation. After a long pause, he swallowed and asked, "You are sure?"  
"Sure enough that Meghan has expressed a wish to meet with Lieutenant Singer, sir!"  
"And what does Lieutenant Singer have to say about this... this... story...?"  
"I haven't mentioned it to the Lieutenant yet sir. I was hoping... that maybe you and..."  
"H'mph!" Chegwidden snorted, "There is no way I'm doing your dirty work, Mister Rabb! However, I am now sufficiently interested to find out what Lieutenant Singer's reaction might be – and to protect you if she should decide to kill you!"  
"That thought had crossed my mind, too sir. But it's worse than that I'm afraid... Meghan O'Hara is Colonel Matthew O'Hara's niece by his brother, which makes Lieutenant Singer his niece too, which in turn makes Meghan and Loren both cousins to..."  
"Colonel MacKenzie... oh... crap!" A now white-faced Admiral breathed. "I... uh... take it you haven't told the Colonel yet?"  
"Not yet, sir. I may be inclined to take the odd risk here and there, but I'm not suicidal. I thought we'd take this one step at a time... if Lieutenant Singer accepts the relationship between her and Meghan O'Hara, then maybe it will be soon enough to tell all three of them. If not, well, no blood, no foul, sir?"  
"Not going to work, Commander." Chegwidden shook his head, "We have no right to hold back that sort of information."  
Harm nodded glumly, "I had a feeling that was the position you'd take, sir! But I still think one step at a time would be the best approach."  
Chegwidden thought for a few seconds, and then made up his mind, "You may well be right, Commander. Tiner," he toggled the intercom switch, "Pass the word for Lieutenant Singer ASAP!"  
The two weren't compelled to wait for more than two or three minutes. When a lieutenant is told that an admiral wants to see her 'ASAP', she doesn't, if she's keen and ambitious, keep him waiting!  
As Loren entered the office, she was bid to take a seat before she could even report herself. With a slightly apprehensive expression on her face she did as she was told.  
Her expression was easily identified by Chegwidden, he gave her a half-smile and said, "Relax, Lieutenant. You're not in trouble. Commander Rabb has some news that you ought to hear..."  
Loren shot Harm a still somewhat anxious look, and he too offered her a reassuring smile as he handed her Gunny's slim sheaf of paper. "Take a look at these, if you would, Lieutenant."  
Loren took the offered papers and skimmed through them, "I don't understand..." she faltered.  
Harm looked at the Admiral for permission to continue.  
"Go ahead, Commander, this whole dog and pony show was your idea!"  
Harm drew a deep breath, "You'll recall a few days ago that I told you I was conducting an investigation in which, although you were not the focus, did impinge on you?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Good... the person I was investigating is a Meghan O'Hara, and what I was trying to establish was her real identity. Now, ever since you've arrived at JAG I've had the nagging feeling that I'd met you somewhere before, and it was driving me mad that I couldn't place you. The other evening, I met Meghan O'Hara for the first time in nearly five years, and then I realised that I hadn't met you before, it was just that you bore a strong resemblance to Meghan O'Hara. During the conversation we had that evening she told me a couple of things that led to me mounting my investigation. That investigation led me in turn to certain pieces of evidence that you now hold in your hands. What you have in your hands are copies of official documents, the marriage licence for Tim O'Hara and Kathleen Singer – your mother, and birth certificates for Meghan and Loren O'Hara. From information I received from Miss O'Hara it appears that your mother snatched you from your father when she separated from him. The other piece of paper is a record of the SSN's issued to you and to Meghan O'Hara. You will note that they are sequential..."  
Loren went white, "Are you trying to tell me, that I have a sister, sir?"  
"Not, trying, Lieutenant, I am saying just that! And if you look at the birth certificates you'll see that she is not only a sister, but she is your twin sister. Your identical twin sister!"  
"Oh, God..." Loren gasped, turning even whiter.  
"Are you OK, Lieutenant?" Chegwidden intervened.  
"I... I... think so... I think I will... yes, sir. It's a bit of a shock, but I'll be all right, sir!" Loren replied, rallying as she spoke.  
All three sat in silence for a few moments before Loren turned to Harm, "Are you sure this is all on the up and up, sir!"  
"Absolutely, Lieutenant, I had those sources checked very carefully, and I am acquainted with Miss O'Hara, and I assure you that anybody seeing you together could be in no possible doubt that you are twins. And to clinch the deal, you both drive the same make, model and colour of car!"  
"Oh... Would it be possible to meet her... if she wants to, of course..."  
"Very possible!"! Harm grinned, "She's waiting for my 'phone call, to arrange a meeting between you! By your leave, sir?" Harm addressed his last remark to the Admiral.  
"Yes, go on the pair of you!" Chegwidden grumped, "Get out of here and let me get on with some work!"  
The two junior officers rose smartly to the feet, paused and replied together, "Aye, aye, sir!"

Harm escorted Meghan up from the CP where she had just been signed in as a visitor, and standing next to her in the elevator he looked across to see her chewing on her bottom lip.  
"Nervous?" he asked kindly.  
"Yeah... a little bit..."  
Harm couldn't prevent a grin creeping across his face as he thought about the woman standing next him, a former paid assassin, being nervous about meeting a long-lost relative.  
Meghan looked up at the same time and caught the grin, blushing she said furiously. "Yeah, all right laugh! I know what you're thinking!"  
Harm was saved from having to answer by the elevator coming to a halt, and after the usual short delay the door sliding open. Stepping out of the elevator, he placed a hand at the small of Meghan's back and guided her along the hallway to the small conference room.  
Stopping outside the door he said, "I'll come in with you, but I'll only stay a moment or two, and go through what evidence we have, and then if you're both comfortable, I'll leave you to get... re-acquainted, I suppose is the right word. OK?"  
Meghan nodded, "OK," she said in what she hoped was a firm voice.  
Harm opened the door and stepped into the room, where a suddenly nervous Lieutenant Loren Singer leaped to her feet.  
"As you were!" Harm said almost unconsciously, "Please sit down ladies, both of you." He looked at each of the blondes in turn and could barely resist reacting to the shudder that suddenly ran up his backbone. Although he knew, intellectually, that the two were very, very similar – hell, they were identical – to actually see them together for the first time was just plain weird!  
Harm took a seat at the table and opened his brief case, pulling out the now worn file folder. "Looking at the two of you together had removed any last doubt I might have had about whether or not you were related, and I know that you, Loren, have seen this before, but it might help if you both looked through these documents together..." He broke off, realising that neither woman was paying him much attention, but both were staring at each other in fascination.  
"Lieutenant!" he spoke sharply to attract her attention.  
"Sir?" Loren replied, barely able to tear her eyes away from Meghan.  
"Can I take it that you're not going to tear each other's eyes out? That it's safe to leave you alone?"  
"Huh... oh, no, sir... we'll be fine, won't we... sister?" Loren replied quietly, with just a trace of hesitation as she turned back towards Meghan.  
"Yes, I think we will!" Meghan sounded slightly more definite.  
"OK, I'll come back in half an hour, then," Harm smiled, "But if you need me in the interim, I'll be either in my own office, or Colonel MacKenzie's. Ladies." With a slight nod and a smile, Harm left the conference room and headed down the hallway back towards the bull pen – and Mac's office, his slightly goofy grin disappearing as he did so, to be replaced by a slightly worried expression.  
The initial meeting between the Singer/O'Hara sisters had gone very smoothly, far more smoothly than he'd half expected, but he was no longer under any illusion as to the Marine's probable reaction when she found out she definitely had two unknown cousins, especially when she discovered their identities.  
Reaching his destination he took a deep breath and tapped on the door frame, "Got a few minutes, Mac?" he asked.  
Mac looked up with a frown on her face, "Not really, but if it's important... I suppose you'd better come on in."  
"It might not be important, Mac, but it's personal, and it is a bit time sensitive." Harm said as he entered Mac's cluttered office and after checking to make sure the blinds were open, he closed the door, causing the Marine's eyebrows to rise in surprise.  
"What's going on Harm?"  
"May I?" he indicated one of the visitors' chairs  
"Yes, yes! Of course! Whatever it is, please get on with it! I am pretty busy!"  
Harm sat down and somewhat nervously cleared his throat, "Mac, you'll remember a few days ago I asked you about your Uncle Matt's family..."  
"Yeah?"  
"Um... well... the thing is I couldn't tell then why I asked, but now I need to to tell you, and you now need to know. I can't guarantee you'll like what you hear, but..."  
"Stop stalling and get on with it!" Mac snapped, beginning, despite herself, to become intrigued. In her book, this was not the way Harmon Rabb acted – he was supposed to be cocksure, arrogant even, not nervous and hesitant. It never occurred to her that he was only this way around her, and that her own ambivalent, but currently mostly abrasive, attitude towards him might have something to do with his present attitude.  
Harm nodded, "Right. The person who was responsible for me asking you those questions is Meghan O'Hara, who you might remember as the assassin who tried to shoot Princess Alexi?"  
Mac's brows darkened, she remembered Princess Alexi, all right. The royal slut had made no attempt to hide the attraction she'd felt towards one Harmon Rabb, and had done everything short of ripping her clothes off and jumping his bones in public. "The Princess I remember, but apart from a glimpse or two, I never saw the assassin... "  
"Well... it's too complicated a story to get into right now, so let's just say that the agent who fired at her was a lousy shot. As you learned from Webb, there must have been some major horse-trading going on behind the scenes, she was never charged with anything, and has been working away from the States. This week, when she returned and moved back into her old apartment, on the floor below me, I saw her, challenged her and we got talking. While we were talking she mentioned she had an Uncle Matthew in the Corps... so I did some digging, talked with you, and then I talked with Matt O'Hara in Leavenworth, and the three stories tally, right down to her parents' names, the dates, you aunt dying in Okinawa, everything..."  
"Wait a minute!" Mac exploded, "Are you trying to tell me that she's my damned cousin! That I'm related to a... a hit-woman?"  
"Former hit-woman, Mac," Harm corrected her gently.  
"This is bullshit!"" Mac leaped to her feet and took a hasty turn around the room. "She's lying! It's a set-up of some sort! It's got to be! What's she really after?"  
"I don't think she's 'after' anything, Mac. It just seems that she's on her own in the world – well nearly – and she wasn't looking for connections, but she spoke to me, and knowing what I know about your Uncle Matt..."  
"I wanna see her!" Mac fumed, "I'm gonna get the truth out of her, if it's the last thing I do!"  
"Well..." Harm said uncomfortably, this was going just as badly as he'd feared it might, "She's actually in the building right now..."  
"What?" Mac shrieked, loudly enough to be heard through her closed office door and attract attention from the occupants of the bull pen. Those who'd heard her looked around, and through the slatted blinds saw that Harm was in Mac's office and shrugged at the familiar sights and sounds and turned back to their desks, idly wondering which of the Colonel's buttons the Commander was pressing now.  
"Where is she? What's she doing here?" Mac demanded stridently.  
"She's visiting her sister, who also happens to work here," Harm said calmly, in the hope that his own calm would encourage a similar reaction in Mac, who now stood, her clenched fists on hips, white faced and breathing heavily through her nose.  
That did catch Mac's attention, "Sister? What damned sister? There's no female staff member named O'Hara... I would have known..." she saw a slightly sceptical expression cross Harm's face "because of Uncle Matt!" she finished defiantly  
"Well... that's as maybe," Harm conceded, "But it's not really germane to the issue at hand..." he gulped and sent a silent prayer heavenwards, "Her sister's name, her twin sister's name is Loren Singer."  
His words were followed by a silence as Mac stood paralysed in open-mouthed shock. Then an appalled expression spread across Mac's face, to be followed by a grimace of pure rage, "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" she howled at last. "There is no way I am related to Loren Singer!"  
Harm winced at the volume and pitch of Mac's voice as much as he winced at the words, "The evidence, oral and written is pretty damned conclusive, Mac. And I remind you, that part of that oral testimony is what you, yourself told me!"  
Mac made a massive effort to get her temper under control, and when she spoke her voice was deadly cold and quiet, "If this is a joke squid, then I am going to kick your sorry ass from here to... to... Adak! If it is not a joke, it better Goddamned well be a mistake! There is no way – no way that I will ever acknowledge Loren Singer... or... or... or... her killer sister as cousins!" She fixed him with a five second glare and then turned and whisked out her office closing the door behind with what was definitely a slam.  
Harm breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed his hand back to front over his hair. Shaking his head he stepped out of Mac's office into the bull pen where he was hailed by Tiner, "Sir, the Admiral wishes to see you – now, sir!" he added as Harm looked at the still-swinging doors to the bull pen.  
Harem tapped, somewhat nervously, on the Admiral's door frame, "Enter!"  
Harm opened the door and approached the desk, "Commander Rabb, reporting as..."  
"Yes, yes, yes!" Chegwidden interrupted impatiently as he waved Harm to a seat, "I take it the ruckus I heard was Hurricane Mac responding to the news of her suddenly enlarged family?"  
"Yes, sir!" Harm replied stiffly. Surely to God the old bas – the Admiral wasn't going to hold him responsible for Mac's temper?  
"Took it well, did she?" he asked, and this time Harm noted to his relief a glint of humorous sympathy in the older man's eyes.  
Harm allowed himself a small grin, "Went better than I'd feared it might, sir!"  
"Me too!" the Admiral replied with an open grin. And for a few moments they were no longer Admiral and Commander, just two men taking cover from a female temper tantrum.  
At last Chegwidden stirred and sighed, "You'd best go baby sit the Lieutenant and her sister, make sure that Mac doesn't just shoot them out of hand!"  
A humorous as it was, it was still a dismissal, and Harm rose to his feet and froze at attention for a few seconds, "Aye, aye, sir!"

Leaving the Admiral's office, Harm's first thoughts were for Loren and Meghan, so he strode briskly across the bull pen and down the hallway, stopping to rap on the small conference room door.  
A bright "Enter!" was his signal to open the door, and stepping into the room he closed it behind him and too a quick look around. The room seemed undamaged, and to his relief so did the two blonde women, who while he had been absent, shifted their seats so that they were now both side by side and poring over the documents he'd left them, but as he entered they both looked up with such identical looks of inquiry on their faces that he was forced to grin.  
"What?" Loren scowled, and then belatedly remembering to whom she was speaking she hastily added the requisite, "Sir!"  
"Well... if you want to – just for your own peace of mind – you could still have DNA tests done to confirm your relationship, but having just seen the matching expressions on your faces, trust me, there can be no doubt!"  
The two blondes looked at each other for a few seconds and then turned smiling faces back towards Harm. "We probably will go ahead and get the tests done, not for our benefit, we've accepted that we're sisters, but just to quell any malicious tongues out there!" Meg said while Loren nodded her agreement.  
"So... you've decided that you are sisters? And that you...uh... like each other?"  
Loren indicated the sheaf of documents lying on the table, "These leave little or no room for doubt sir, that is if they are authentic … As for liking each other... well... we haven't found any grounds for disliking each other! Right, Meghan?"  
"Right!" the other blonde replied.  
"Good! Then my work here is almost done!" Harm said with only slightly forced cheerfulness.  
"Oh, what's left for you to do?" Meghan asked, while Loren, better acquainted with Harm, picked up on the slightly false note in his voice and started at him expressionlessly.  
"Umm... It's to do with your Uncle Matt, Meghan. And now your uncle too, Lieutenant," Harm began, holding up a hand to prevent Loren from asking the questions he could see forming on her lips. "Meghan's claim to be related to him checked out – I spoke to him personally – but that also means you are related to another of his family." Harm paused eyeing Loren uneasily. "And that family member is also here at JAG, not only have you each found a sister here, but you've also got a cousin. Meghan, Loren, your cousin here at JAG is Colonel MacKenzie!"  
Meghan's mouth dropped open in sheer surprise, while Loren narrowed her eyes and spat, "No! There is no way I am related to that sanctimonious, hypocritical..."  
"Lieutenant!" Harm interrupted sharply, "She may be your cousin, but she is also still your superior officer! I can't allow you to start calling her names and making derogatory remarks in my hearing! And you mustn't make them in the hearing of anyone else at JAG, either! Do you read me?"  
"Aye, aye, sir! Loud and clear!" Loren responding, but with her anger evident in her blazing eyes and her firmly pressed together lips.  
"If it's any consolation, Lieutenant," Harm continued in a quieter, more sympathetic tone, "If you heard a disturbance a few minutes before I joined you here, that was Colonel MacKenzie's reaction to the news!"  
To Harm's surprise, after a few seconds' blank faced astonishment Loren started to giggle, "Oh, God!... I wish... I could have... have... seen it..." she managed between her giggles, "I'll... I'll bet... she had... she had a... cow!"  
As much as he tried to fight down his amusement at her reaction, Harm was unable to totally prevent a grin from making a fleeting appearance, "Just about!" he admitted, "but I'd better go and find her and try to get her to calm down... the Admiral has tasked me with preventing her from shooting you both out of hand!"  
He got up from the table and with a quick shake of his head he turned towards the door and as he closed it behind him he could hear Loren's voice, "What's all this about an uncle Matt?"  
"I'll tell you what I know... if you'll tell me about this Colonel person..."


	3. Chapter 3

December 23, 2001  
The past two weeks had been busy for all the attorneys at JAG and it was with a sense of relief that they looked forward to the Christmas holidays. Life hadn't been made any easier for Harm by the cold shoulder shown to him by Mac, as if it was all his fault that she had cousins she didn't like! It was only the past couple of days that she'd ceased being actively hostile, and as far as he was concerned it was just as well. He was getting a little tired of her constant blowing hot and cold. It had been she who suggested they make a fresh start after the Jagathon, yet she seemed to be brooding more than ever on all that had gone in the past.  
Loren Singer on the other hand... well... if she hadn't actually blossomed, she was certainly changed, even if just a little bit. She was less acerbic, less sarcastic, she even smiled once in a while, an honest open smile, not her habitual supercilious smirk, and she'd even been heard to say 'please' and 'thank you' to the enlisted members, rather than issuing imperatives and taking the results for granted.  
Of course, most of the staff were at a loss to explain the change in her behaviour. Mac had mentioned their relationship to Loren only once, and that was to inform her that she had no intention of even acknowledging that the relationship existed. She had been left speechless, gobbling with rage when Loren had merely smiled and said coolly, "I understand your desire for privacy, ma'am. You can't be any more ashamed of the connection than my sister and I."  
Mac had been tempted to raise charges of insubordination against Loren but was brought to her senses by the dual realisation that she had set the tone of the conversation, leaving her on very shaky ground, but worse than that, any charges would result in an investigation and drag out into the daylight all the dirty laundry that she desperately wanted to keep hidden.  
Loren hadn't changed that much and she continued to guard her privacy, ensuring that no one else at JAG knew of Meghan's existence and their relationship. If Harm hadn't seen two blue Miatas parked outside the old warehouse on numerous occasions and even once shared the elevator with Loren, he would have been like the rest of the staff - none the wiser. As it was, whenever he spotted the new, improved version of Loren Singer he was hard put to hide a grin. On one or two occasions he hadn't quite been quick enough, and he had caught her staring at him with a puzzled frown on her face.  
Harm was kept up to date on the progress of the two sisters' relationship by if not exactly frequent, then at least semi-regular conversations with his neighbour. Meghan seemed to feel the need for companionship, and on the evenings that Loren wasn't visiting her she usually found some excuse to visit Harm, or to invite him to join her for coffee or hot chocolate. Even if he was busy she seemed to content to curl up on his battered old leather couch and just be there while he worked on whatever it was he had to do, whether it was reading case files and note-making, or reckoning up the household budget.  
Not that the visits lasted very long, rarely more than the time it took to share a pot of coffee. The early part of most evenings found Harm, with Sturgis Turner's help, frantically trying to finish work on rebuilding a new Corvette from scratch in order to replace the one that had been stolen over off two years before. It was on these evenings when the two men had had enough of the cold, and when Loren had been unable to visit Meghan she had usually invited Harm in for a hot drink to 'help him to warm up'  
In fact it had only been last night that, with Sturgis' help, the penultimate piece of the puzzle had been fitted. The starter motor had finally, after much cussing and an impressive graze on a set of knuckles been seated into place.  
Sturgis had pulled himself out from underneath the car and hauled himself from his feet as Harm eased himself behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition and the engine fired for the first time!  
With a satisfied grin Sturgis said, "You did it!".  
"Nuh-huh," Harm disagreed with a grateful smile at his friend, "We did it!"  
"Yeah," Sturgis grinned, and then nodding at the closed garage door he asked, "We gonna take it for a spin?"  
"Are you kiddin'? Without a top? Have you forgotten it's winter out there?"  
"Since when have you been afraid of a little snow?" Sturgis jeered.  
"Ever since I sunk my life savings into rebuilding this baby!" Harm retorted, and despite his pleas, Sturgis couldn't make Harm change his mind. "As soon as I find a top we'll take it out – I promise!" Harm reassured his disappointed friend.

That had been last night, and Harm couldn't resist a grin at the memory of the look of disappointment Sturgis had worn as the two friends had said good night while Harm locked the garage, Sturgis pleading that he had some casework waiting for him at home as a reason for not coming up for a warming drink. "It'll be warm enough in the car," he explained, "And I really do got to get some work done this evening!"  
"OK, pal ! It's your loss! But seriously, thanks for all your help with the 'vette!"  
That, however, had been last night, now he had been summoned to the Admiral's office and was joined en route by Loren Singer.  
"You too?" he asked as they made their way to the JAG's office.  
"Yes, sir!" she replied coolly.  
"Uh-huh... any plans for the holiday, Loren?"  
"A romantic Christmas break," Loren replied and then with her customary defensiveness she added, "And that's all I'm saying!"  
Harm was saved from having to find a reply as they arrived at the Admiral's office. He rapped sharply on the door jamb and on their being bidden to enter, hesitated a second and with a nod of his head indicated that Loren should precede him.  
She acknowledged his courtesy with a dip of her head and walked through the doorway.  
Chegwidden had seen the little by-play and snorted quietly to himself, "Come on in you two, and take a seat!" he said somewhat impatiently.  
"Sorry to do this to you two days before Christmas!" he said perfunctorily, "Petty Officer Third Class Jennifer Coates, is an electronics technician aboard the USS Gainesville, she has high proficiency marks for skills but has a record for insubordination and unauthorised absence" he read from the file in front of him. Chegwidden took a breath and looked up at his two attorneys, "Earlier this week she resisted apprehension and was caught impersonating Santa Claus and pocketing the cash..."  
"How much did she get, sir?" Harm inquired.  
"Uh... forty eight dollars and eighteen cents..." The Admiral glanced down at the file for the figures.  
"Well, that's barely a misdemeanour!" Harm said a half puzzled and half amused frown on his face.  
"She took money intended for a charity, sir!" Loren interrupted, "Huh! What crime could be more heinous!"  
"Save it for closing arguments, counsellor!" Chegwidden instructed her as he handed them each a copy of the file, "You'll prosecute; Commander, you'll defend. Let's wrap this one up quickly!"  
Loren and Harm stood, chorused "Aye, aye, sir!" and left the office just as Tiner brought another file into his chief.  
"Shall we get this done now?" Loren asked, "After all it looks like an open and shut case!"  
"Don't be too sure about that!" Harm contradicted her. A contradiction that had Loren furiously looking through the file to see if she could spot a possible rabbit for Harm to pull out of the hat.  
Collecting the attractive brunette ET3 from the holding cells, Harm declined the presence of an MP escort. Coates had no record of violence, she was in the JAG building with armed MPs at the doors, and besides if she did make a run for it, Harm reckoned that he could move a damn sight quicker in his pants and jacket than she could in pumps and skirt.  
On the way up to courtroom one, the smallest in JAG, with Coates a step or two behind them, he and Loren tried to hammer out a plea bargain they could present to Judge Helfman.  
"OK, drop the resisting, she pleas to the UA does thirty days confinement and returns the Santa suit!" Harm offered, as they skirted the bull pen.  
"Sixty days plus reduction in rate to E3!" Loren countered his proposal.  
"In the Brig?" an appalled Coates interjected.  
"That's kind of steep for a first infraction, Loren!" Harm objected as both attorneys ignored the Petty Officer's interruption.  
"First charge!" Loren corrected him, "Petty Officer Coates has previously been officially reprimanded at a Captain's mast for gambling on board the Gainesville!"  
"Like I was the first sailor ever to play poker, ma'am!" Coates defended herself as they came to a stop outside the court room door, and Harm paused with his hand on the door handle.  
"That'll be enough, Petty Officer," Harm cautioned her.  
Loren fixed Coates with stare and continued in a steely voice, "She also bet on the anchor pool!"  
"I've bet on the anchor pool, Lieutenant!" Harm objected.  
"But you didn't yell 'man overboard' to delay the anchor drop to win a bet!" Loren objected in turn  
Harm looked at Coates the mixture of disbelief, grudging respect and censure on his face reflected in his voice, "You rigged the anchor pool?"  
"None of this would have happened, sir" Coates replied with a bitter edge to her voice, "If I'd done a lousy six months in Frederick County jail!"  
"Jail?" Harm asked.  
"A couple of bounced checks!" Coates said almost defiantly.  
"What else?" Loren demanded.  
"A little shop-lifting here and there!" Coates drew a breath and turned an earnest face towards Harm, "The judge over at Hagerstown had it in for me. He gave me a choice; serve my time or serve my country!"  
Harm paused to give a calculating glance at Loren and then turned back to Coates, "Do you have an overwhelming desire to stay in the Navy, Petty Officer?"  
"Yes, sir!" She replied sardonically, "That's why I was standing on a street corner impersonating Santa!"  
Harm looked at her in ill-disguised amusement, "How would you like to be home for Christmas?"

Judge Helfman settled herself behind the bench and looked out at the sparsely populated court room, apart from herself and Coates, only the two attorney's were present. Not even a bailiff. With an impatient sniff, she picked up the docket..."Petty Officer Third Class Jennifer Coates, Unauthorised Absence, Resisting Apprehension... Are we going to dispose of this?"  
Harm replied, "Your Honour, this court has no personal jurisdiction over Petty Officer Coates, and these charges should be dismissed!"  
Judge Helfmann, made a note and looking back up at Harm said drily, "Do tell, Commander!"  
"Well, ma'am, her enlistment was not voluntary and is therefore defective. Under the United States versus Catlow, ma'am..."  
Helfman held her hand up in a cut-off gesture, "I am familiar with the case, Commander! I thought Congress took care of that and stopped civilian judges sending us their mistakes!"  
Out of the corner of his eye Harm saw Coates draw a deep breath as an affronted, but resigned expression settled on her face as she heard herself described as a 'mistake' but then masking her emotions, she raised her head, her chin jutting out defiantly.  
Judge Helfman missed Coates' reaction as she transferred her gaze to the prosecution side of the aisle, "Lieutenant Singer, what is the government's position on this motion, Lieutenant?"  
"We will argue that there was a constructive enlistment and ask for an evidentiary hearing, ma'am!"  
Harm looked across the aisle, "Lieutenant, there is no way to get the State's court transcript here before the holiday!" he protested.  
"Then we'll take this up after the holidays!" Judge Helfman decided, "The bailiff will conduct the defendant to... oh... Actually I allowed the bailiff the afternoon off to do his Christmas shopping!" she paused for a few seconds' worth of thought and then a smile of pure schadenfreude settled on her face, "Defence Counsel will transport the defendant to restricted barracks at Anacostia!"  
Harm exchanged a glance with Coates and was unsettled by what appeared to be a sympathetic smile on her face as Judge Helfman, with every sign of giving in to unholy enjoyment, piled insult onto injury, "Merry Christmas Commander!" she bade Harm as she brought her gavel down sharply, closing the proceedings.

Harriet Sims' path around the edge of the bull pen coincided with Loren's as they both walked towards the elevator. In the spirit of Christmas, Harriet smiled at Loren, with whom she wasn't particularly friendly, "Why don't you join us for eggnog tomorrow evening before we go to church?"  
"At your home?" Loren queried, surprised by the invitation.  
"It is Christmas, Loren!" Harriet pointed out, somewhat unnecessarily, in Loren's opinion. "I thought that as we are all going to hear Commander Turner's father preach, that maybe..."  
"OK, fine... it's not as if I had anything better to do..." she tailed off in some embarrassment as Harriet gave her a level stare.  
"Sorry, I didn't mean it like that..." Loren sighed, "Kevin was supposed to come down from Boston for the holidays, suite at the Willard, romantic dinner..." she sighed again.  
"Who's Kevin?" Harriet queried.  
"Commodities trader, aggressively sweet..."  
"What happened?"  
"His family insisted he join them in Hyannis, somehow they forgot to invite me." Loren said, trying not reveal the chagrin she felt at such a brutally blatant snub. "But, he sent his regrets," Loren finished on a note of triumph as she held up her wrist to display what looked like to Harriet a platinum bracelet with each link holding what seemed to be a ruby.  
Harriet's eyes opened wide, "Are those real?" she gasped.  
"They'd better be!" Loren replied straight-faced, and then grinned.

Now Harm was getting tired and exasperated. The drive out to Anacostia had proved to be a bust. They had arrived just as the Lieutenant in charge of the restricted barracks was securing the complex. All the current inhabitants had been granted leave, and the facility was now closed until January 2. In response to Harm's question about what he was to do with Coates, the other officer could only suggest the brig at the Navy Yard.  
Coates had been horrified, "lock me up for the holidays?" she protested.  
"You are in the Commander's custody, Petty Officer. He can either take you to the brig or..."  
"Or?" Coates interrupted hopefully, looking at Harm  
"Or... I could return you to your unit..." Harm said slowly.  
"My billet is on the Gainesville, sir. Deployed on exercises off the coast of Panama!"  
"Or I could place you with a second party whom I trust and who can guarantee that you will not go UA again..."  
"That sounds a lot better than ten days behind bars, sir," Coates replied, and Harm thought he heard just the trace of a plea in her voice.  
Harm made up his mind and turned his attention back to the other officer, "Thank you, Lieutenant and Merry Christmas!"  
"The same to you, sir!" he paused and with a crooked smile and a significant look at Coates, added, "Good luck sir!"  
"You could leave me with my brother, Hal, sir!" Coates suggested as they returned to Harm's motor pool sedan.  
Harm squinted through the windscreen as he drove back down the I-70 towards Frederick and the interchange with the I-270 for DC. 'My brother Hal' had turned out to be an attempted scam by Coates that had been uncovered simply and purely because Hal was not at home and his and Coates' friend Tiny had been too slow on the uptake to back up Coates attempt at fooling Harm.  
So it was with much less charity in his heart that he had given the Petty Officer one last chance to come up with an alternative before he took her back to the Navy Yard and consigned her to the brig for the holidays. He really didn't want to take that action and so it was with relief not entirely unmixed with scepticism that he wrung out of her an admission that her father lived in Hagerstown, and was a minister there.  
Scepticism and suspicion notwithstanding, Harm had followed her directions to her father's address. What Harm had been expecting he wasn't quite sure, but it wasn't the mean-spirited, sullen, unforgiving and even vicious reception the young woman was faced with.  
The Reverend Coates' first words, "What'd Jennifer do now?" spoken in a tone of cynical displeasure set the tone for the remainder of the short-lived doorstep conversation – the older man hadn't even invited them in out of the cold, and when at last he had grudgingly admitted that Jennifer could sleep on the couch, he added "Hurry up and make up your minds, I've got a sermon to write!"  
Harm looked at Coates and said curtly, "Let's go!" and as they walked down the path to the car he said, "Sorry to have put you through that!"  
Coates stopped and looked at him defiantly with eyes that were suspiciously moist and through a half closed throat she grated out, "Don't you pity me, sir. Don't you dare!"  
There was something about that almost pathetic show of defiance that touched Harm and he resolved that no matter what, he was not going to take Jennifer Coates to spend the Christmas holidays in the brig. He grinned to himself in the darkness, under no delusion that his attitude towards her had been changed by the lack of welcome she had received from her own kin.  
The snag was, if he didn't take her to the brig, where could he take her? He ran through a list of alternatives... The Roberts probably had a full house with Big Bud and Mikey staying with them for the holidays. Meghan? No... his acquaintance with her was too new and too shallow for him to be able to ask her to take in an errant petty officer... besides, considering her past, she was hardly the right person to ask. Loren Singer? No way! Even if she hadn't planned a 'Romantic Christmas'. Given her age, sex and disparity in ranks between them, there was no way Harm could allow her to stay at his place... so realistically, if he was to keep her out of the brig, the only alternative left was... Mac.  
Harm groaned silently to himself... he was still not sure just how she regarded him in the wake of his discoveries of a couple of weeks ago... but even if it was a kind of 'Hail Mary pass' it was at least worth the try! And at least, thanks to his habit of last second Christmas shopping, he had her Christmas present in his briefcase, it might, he thought ruefully. come in handy as a sweetener!

Eyes blearing from having peered through snow and the night all the way back from Hagerstown, Harm finally pulled the sedan over to the kerb of the quiet side street where Mac's apartment building stood. Climbing the stairs with Coates in tow, he waited for a few seconds outside Mac's door before he raised his fist and knocked.  
The Judas hole darkened for a few seconds before the door was pulled open and Mac stood in front of them. Harm blinked as he took in the glory of her blue flannel pyjamas, decorated with cowboys and bucking broncos, and quite fittingly he thought privately, with cactuses!  
Mac's eyes widened in surprise at seeing him and a strange Petty Officer on her doorstep, their relationship hadn't been such recently that an unheralded visit was something either of them could expect. But before she could say anything, he greeted her "Merry Christmas!" and held out a gift-wrapped package to her, taking the wind out of the sails of any objections she might have.  
"Thank you!" she said in pleased surprise and took half a step back, just as her 'little sister' Chloe Madison stepped forward with a wide grin on her pre-teen face.  
Chloe took a look at the package, raised an eyebrow and said in a knowing voice, "Perfume, right?"  
"Oh, I hope so!" Mac said with a smile as Harm waved a casual half-salute in Chloe's direction and then turning back to Harm said lightly, "Your present's under the tree!"  
Harm nodded in acknowledgement and said, "Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie, Chloe Madison, this is Petty Officer Coates, she's..." and floundered to a stop, not quite sure how to say what he wanted.  
He was saved by Coates, who chimed in, as if in on cue, "His prisoner!"  
Mac blinked, but Chloe's grin became even wider, "Cool!" she pronounced her verdict on Coates' declaration.  
Mac was too taken aback to do other than step back and make a gesture of welcome. "Uh... come in!"  
Coates walked into the apartment as Harm paused just inside the door. Mac looked up at him and said, "Try not to make her spend Christmas alone, won't you?"  
"That's what I want to talk to you about," Harm said quietly, "I want to know if you wouldn't mind looking after the Petty Officer, just at night."  
Mac looked across at Coates, who met her gaze with a nervous smile. Mac looked back at Harm as she realised that he wasn't joking.  
"She really is your prisoner!" she said in surprise.  
"It's a long story..." Harm offered.  
Mac drew a breath and looked troubles, "I have Chloe..." she began, but was uninterrupted by the young girl.  
"I think it would be cool Mac. I'm going back to Vermont in the morning – where it really snows!  
Mac sighed and shrugged, "OK... just for one night!" and then looked across at Coates, "You don't mind sleeping on the couch?"  
"I've slept in stranger places," Coates replied. Drawing a stern look from Harm at her lapse from military protocol.  
"Petty Officer, I'll see you tomorrow!" Harm bid her a good night and was again taken aback by her reply.  
"Not if I see you first!" and then realising from his expression that he hadn't seen the funny side of he quip, she added hastily, "That was a joke, sir!"  
"Make sure it is!" Harm warned her. "Don't forget, zero nine hundred hours!"

The Next Morning, Christmas Eve  
True to his word, Harm knocked at Mac's door at zero nine hundred hours sharp, loaded a now civilian dressed Petty Officer into his Lexus and a scant fifteen minutes later pulled up outside his garage.  
Having explained to Coates what the plan for day was he nodded as she exclaimed, "Colonel MacKenzie told me how much you loved your old Thunderbird, sir!"  
"Corvette!" he corrected her as he dismounted from the Lexus, "A 1968 Mako Shark, fibre glass body, rally red..."  
"It suits you, sir!" Coates said approvingly, "How did you end up with a Lexus?"  
"A guy named Gemmel stuck me with it!" Harm replied with a grin which swiftly faded as he saw the hasp looped loosely over the staple and the missing padlock. With a sick feeling in his stomach he pulled the door open and stepped into the empty garage.  
"Oh no, not again!" he groaned.  
"This has happened before?" Coates asked as she looked around and found a light switch.  
"Twenty nine months and seven days ago!" Harm complained.  
"Next time buy a Subaru," Coates recommended lightly and then saw the hurt in Harm's face, "Sorry, sir!" she quickly added.  
"This is unbelievable!" Harm protested as he thumbed 911 on his cell phone to report the theft to the police.  
Coates wandered around the garage for the few minutes Harm was on the 'phone, until with an impatient snap, he broke the connection.  
"So?" Coates asked.  
"So... so who would do something like this!" Harm snapped his anger rising to the surface,  
"Sir..." Coates tried to interject but Harm was now on a roll.  
"What sort of a low life scum goes around stealing other people's stuff!" As he raged his eyes locked with Coates and he saw and immediately understood the stricken look on her face. "I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean you," he told her.  
"Yeah, yeah you did. Look sir, some people steal because they want what other people have, some steal for the thrill of it, some just to get attention..."  
Something in her face and her voice, taken with the manner in which her own father had greeted her the evening before struck a spark in Harm. His anger dissipated almost on the instant and he asked gently, "Is that your story?"  
Coates paused a long three seconds and then asked, "Do you want to know the truth?"  
Once again Harm was saved by the bell as his cell phone chirped. Opening it, his eyes never leaving Coates' face he answered, "Yes?"  
He listened to the voice at the other end of the line and with a, "Yes, OK", he snapped the 'phone shut again.  
"Come on, let's get out of here!" he commanded.  
Coates face lit with quick alarm, "Where are we going,sir?" she asked anxiously.  
"I got to see the authorities," Harm answered.  
Coates' face fell, "Are you taking me to the brig?" she asked.  
Harm shook his head slightly, "I have to go to the Seventh Precinct; they need me to report this in person!" he said as he turned towards the door.  
Coates let out a sigh and the tension streamed put of her, with a relieved smile, she almost scurried after the long-legged navy officer.

That Evening  
The Roberts' apartment was not quite full to overflowing when Harriet answered yet another knock at the door, a quick glance around the room showed her that of her invited guests only three were still adrift, Admiral Chegwidden, Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Singer – not that she held out much hope of the last-named showing up. Shaking her head at her own uncharitable thoughts, she hastened to open the door, "Sir!" she exclaimed in pleased welcome, and then gazed inquiringly at the young woman standing just behind Harm.  
"Hello Harriet," Harm leaned in to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek, "Merry Christmas!" He held out a gaily wrapped parcel, "This is for little AJ!" he said.  
Then as he became aware of Harriet's gaze directed over his shoulder, he grinned in slight embarrassment and said, "Lieutenant Sims, this is Petty Officer Coates, she's... uh.. with me... for the evening."  
"That's Jennifer, Ma'am!"  
"Of course! Nice to meet you, Jennifer, come on in! Help yourself to food and drink, and you know where the coats go! Harriet said, feeling slightly confused by the obfuscation in Harm's introduction, but sure that she would get an answer during the course of the evening.  
Harm relaxed and as he took Coates' jacket from her he cautioned her, "Now behave, enjoy yourself, but behave!"  
"Aye,aye, sir!"  
Jennifer Coates stood back for a while as she took in the atmosphere of the party. She quickly realised that most of those present were officers, and all a few years older than herself. The only readily perceptible exception she saw was a young man in FC3's uniform, who seemed to be almost constantly occupied in removing empty trays and glasses from the room and ferrying them back into the kitchen from whence he would return in a few minutes with freshly reloaded trays.  
Coates made her way through the crowd and eased into the kitchen "Hi, I'm Jennifer Coates, Petty Officer Three," she greeted him, adding her rate just in case he might be ill at ease if he thought she too was an officer.  
"Hi! I'm Mikey Roberts, and likewise!"  
Harm watched Coates disappear into the kitchen and shifted his position as he made small talk with his colleagues, so that he could keep Coates under discreet observation. He relaxed more as he saw her assisting Mikey Roberts with the arrangement of fresh food on trays, and satisfied that his charge wasn't about to slip out through the back door, her allowed himself to become one of the party.  
He was standing next to the front door when the next knock came, and in answer to Harriet's mute appeal, she was temporarily, but hopelessly trapped by the press of bodies at the far side of the room, he opened the door and rocked back on his heels,"Lieutenant! Meghan!  
The two blondes smiled, "Merry Christmas!" Meghan wished him, while Loren contented herself with one of her enigmatic smiles, as Harm stood back to let them enter.  
"Let me take your coats!" he said offering them his assistance. As the two removed their coats a silence gradually fell over the room, looking around, Harm and a blushing Loren saw that everyone's eye – except for Mac's – was fixed on the two women in surprise.  
Harm stood with both coats over his forearm as Harriet bustled across the room towards them. But before she reached them, Loren spoke, directing her words at Harriet, but pitching them loud enough for the entire room to hear, "I hope you don't mind, Harriet, but I brought my sister, Meghan,with me, she's only just arrived in Washington, and doesn't know many people here yet!"  
"Oh, of course not!" Harriet protested, "You are both welcome! Merry Christmas!" Then as she became aware of the silent stares directed at two of her guests she said laughingly, but with a hint of reproof in her voice, "Oh, come on people, haven't you ever seen twins before?"  
Brought back to a sense of propriety, the party goers returned to their conversations, but even so, couldn't help the odd curious look at Loren Singer and her so-far-unmentioned twin sister.  
Looking at Meghan and Loren Harm had to admit that they were definitely worth looking at. Loren had shown up in a crimson, heavy silk, sleeveless, knee length dress with a Mandarin collar, that while not revealing certainly let the onlooker know that beneath it she had a perfect figure. Meghan had chosen a classic A line black chiffon cocktail dress with spaghetti straps and a square cut neck line that only just revealed a hint of the figure that it covered, a figure that was equal to her sister's. Both women wore their hair down, Meghan's slightly lighter locks resting on her shoulders, while Loren had gathered the sides of her hair into a barrette so that it formed a pony tail that rested on the fall of hair from the back of her head.  
All in all, Harm told himself, the Singer/O'Hara twins were beautiful women. And one of them, Meghan, was approaching him.  
Loren meanwhile had gravitated to the tray laden buffet and was hesitating over what morsels to put on her plate when Big Bud Roberts strolled towards her, just as Harriet, mindful of her duties as hostess came to assist Loren and to answer any queries she might have about the food. Harriet flashed her father-in-law a look in which exasperation was mixed with a warning as he openly leered at at Loren, and then as he saw the bracelet encircling her wrist he whistled and asked in a voice laden with innuendo, "Whoa! What did you have to do to earn that?"  
He was immediately transfixed by two pairs of piercing blue eyes as Loren stared at him with dislike and Harriet stepped in, "I'm sure it was given with love!" She glared at Big Bud, who suddenly found himself unequal to the task of staring down the two enraged young women.  
He drained the last mouthful of beer and waving the empty bottle as a face saving device he wandered back towards the kitchen in search of another drink.  
"I thought so too, Harriet, until I went to the jeweller to have it appraised for the insurance!" Loren confided to Harriet.  
"They're not real?" a shocked Harriet asked  
"Oh, they're real!" Loren agreed, "But the jeweller called me 'Patty'. Turns out that Kevin sent the same 'one of a kind' bracelet to a Patty Sachs, and then under cross examination he admitted he sent an identical one to a Wendy Pearson!"  
Harriet pulled a face, "A serial Santa," she said sympathetically.  
"A serial jerk!" Loren exclaimed bitterly.  
"H'mm..." Harriet nodded sympathetically, "still, I'll bet you and your sister, Meghan, isn't it? I'll bet you had a great time tearing his character to shreds?"  
Loren was forced to concede a grin, "Yeah, we did... and she came up with some very inventive ways to make him pay! But I said I'd rather leave him alive to regret what he had done!"  
If it had been anyone else, Harriet would have laughed off the remark, but with Loren Singer she wasn't sure. After all, the other blonde had never been known to crack a joke. But the opportunity to probe further was lost when Loren took a sharp intake of breath as she saw Coates, and with a muttered "Excuse me!" made a bee-line across the room to where Harm was talking with Mac.  
"Commander!" she challenged, butting into the conversation, "Just what is your prisoner doing here?"  
"Don't ask!" Harm grinned, trying to dispel the tension which in seconds had risen by at least ten notches.  
"And where did she spend last night?" Loren demanded.  
"With me!" Mac replied coldly.  
"And tonight?" Loren asked acerbically, eyeing the Colonel's ensemble with disapproval, but then walked away without waiting for an answer.  
Harm shook his head sadly. Obviously Meghan's presence hadn't wrought a complete change in the Lieutenant's behaviour, but it was a a mite early to hope for a fundamental adjustment to her attitude. Mac gave him a an "I told you so," look and wandered away to greet the Admiral, who with Tiner, had just arrived.  
Harm wasn't left alone for very many minutes, as he was accosted by a smiling Meghan, "She's a bit prickly, isn't she?" she asked, and for a moment Harm wasn't sure whether Meghan meant her sister or Mac, and then saw that Meghan was actually looking at Loren.  
"Good evening, Meghan, are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, putting her query to one side for the moment.  
"Yes, thank you, everyone's been very pleasant – with the exception of Colonel MacKenzie, of course!" she laughed lightly, "and I've been collecting a couple of strange looks, from that older, bald guy!"  
"Ah, that's the Admiral. He knows who you are, of course,"  
"Ah," Meghan breathed, "that explains a lot!"  
"Uh... yeah," Harm hastened to change the subject, "I'm surprised Loren came here tonight, she's not exactly known for being a social animal, well not with the people she works with!"  
"That was my doing," Meghan confided, "I asked if you were going to be here, and when she said she supposed so, I bullied and nagged her into bringing me! No, don't look so scared, it's just after the disappointment – the double disappointment – over the guy she was dating she needed cheering up. But I'm not sure my plan is working!" she finished as they both looked at the discontented pout of Loren's face.  
Meghan's opinion was reinforced a few minutes later by a cry of "Dammit! My bracelet's gone!"  
Heads turned to see a white-faced Loren Singer facing a bewildered Jennifer Coates, "I took my bracelet off in the bathroom!" the blonde officer yelled, "and she went in there!"  
Coates shook her head, "I never..." she began  
"That's what you do, isn't it?" Loren demanded, "Steal things!"  
"Lieutenant!" Mac said sharply.  
"I'm sure it's just been misplaced," Harriet said soothingly, "Why don't we all look for it?"  
The party dispersed around the apartment looking in the most unlikely places for the missing jewellery, leaving a tearful Jennifer Coates standing alone in the middle of the room. She stood in indecision for a few moments, and then grabbed her coat and unseen by any but Big Bud, quietly slipped out of the door.  
It was ten minutes or so later that Harm became aware of her absence, and standing up straight looked around and asked, "Has anyone seen Coates?"  
"Commander, she left." Big Bud said succinctly, indicating the front door, still half ajar.  
With a silent curse, Harm grabbed his own coat and went after her. For a moment he stood on the doorstep considering. As far as he knew, this part of town was strange to the Petty Officer so she wouldn't know the bus routes, or indeed if any buses were running at this tome on a Christmas Eve, and he doubted that she would have sufficient cash on her to take a cab anywhere that would afford her a refuge. But she was a hustler, and if she needed money, she would go to a place where she could scam some.

Blessing the impulse that had led him to park the Lexus on the street instead of getting blocked in on the Roberts' drive he drove a slow spiral pattern through the streets of the neighbourhood until he saw what he was looking for, an open bar that had a slightly down-market look to it. Parking up, he locked the Lexus and ducked into the smoky but nearly deserted bar-room.  
He was just in time to see a burly, unshaven guy in his thirties grab Coates' wrist, "You're cheating!" he growled as he eyed the five dollar bill in her hand.  
Coates winced against the pain of his grasp, "And you're an idiot!" she spat defiantly.  
Harm reached across and whisked the cash out of Coates fingers, and held up in front of the angry punter, "Merry Christmas!" he said firmly, with an unspoken 'get out of here' tacked on the end.  
"Thanks!" the guy muttered and taking the five dollars, shoved it in his pocket and left the bar.  
Harm perched on the bar stool and waved off the bar tender as he came forward, while studying Coates' face and body language.  
"How'd you find me?" she challenged him.  
"Well, I figured that you needed to get some money, fast. And I was just lucky I found this place first!" Harm said mildly.  
"I didn't steal that witch's bracelet!" Coates said fiercely.  
"That's Lieutenant Witch, to you!" Harm told her.  
Coates closed her eyes briefly, "Whatever!" she conceded, "Do you believe me, sir?" she asked after a moment in a voice that once again seemed to Harm to ask for reassurance.  
"Why did you run?" he asked her gently.  
Coates shrugged, "Force of habit!"  
"You know, Jen, a lot of people have turned their lives around in the military."  
"Spare me the lecture. I really don't belong in the Navy. I just want to get back to my life!"  
What, standing on the corner, begging for small change?"  
Coates looked at him, honestly puzzled, "Why does any of this matter to you. sir?" she asked.  
"It's Christmas time,"  
"Why didn't you just leave me with my father?"  
"Is that what you wanted?"  
Coates' eyes filled with tears, "No," she gave a little sniff, "I spent most of my time trying to get away from him!" she squeezed out of her constricted throat.  
"Jen, whatever you're doing, it's not working," Harm said quietly.  
Coates used a finger to wipe away a tear that had escaped to roll down her cheek, "Look, no-one wants me, Commander!"  
"That's not true!" Harm contradicted her.  
"Look at you, sir! Passing me from hand to hand! You've done everything you can to get rid of me!" Coates protested, fighting back sobs as she did so.  
"That was wrong of me; I'm sorry," Harm made a grave apology, never once taking his eyes from Coates' face.  
Coates made a major effort, and used both hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks, "What will Lieutenant Singer do, sir?" she asked plaintively.  
"Well... she'll probably add grand theft to your list of sins. But don't worry about it Jen. We'll get through this. I'll stay with you every step of the way!"  
It was the kindness in his voice that finally broke through Jen's determination, and her face crumpled.

By the time Coates had repaired the damage to her face and Harm had driven them back to the Roberts, people had started to leave for the Church Service, and Harm and Coates had to side step various bodies as he led her towards an already wrapped up Loren Singer.  
They were intercepted halfway across the room by an anxious Harriet, "Everything all right, sir?" she asked with a glance at Coates.  
"Perfectly!" Harm assured her, "The Petty Office just needed a walk to clear her head." He came up to Loren and crossing his arms on his chest he said, "Lieutenant Singer, about the bracelet..."  
"Sir," Harriet interrupted from behind him, "Little A J took it out of the bathroom."  
"We found it behind the dresser, sir," Bud added helpfully.  
Loren swallowed and looked Coates in the eye, "I was wrong about you," she admitted.  
"You were quick to judge, ma'am" Coates replied.  
"And you were quick to run!" Loren came back at her.  
"Yes, ma'am. Where does that leave us?"  
"There is no theft charge, and let's forget about the walk around the block, but I am not going to dismiss the UA and resisting apprehension charges!"  
"No ma'am, that would have been too much to hope for!" Coates agreed.  
Harm nodded in satisfaction, and stepped back into the archway leading to the family room cum temporary cloakroom to allow the others to precede him through the door, turning as he did so to thank Bud and Harriet, and then turning back, he collided with Meghan, who eyes down, was fastening the buttons on her coat, and automatically put his hands on her shoulders to steady her.  
"Oops!" she chuckled, looking up at him, as he could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, even through their layers of clothing. And then her eyes lit up with mischief and she raised her eyes higher, leading his gaze upwards until he too saw the sprig of mistletoes pinned to the apex of the archway in which they stood.  
Meghan reached up, and with a hand at the back of his head, she drew him down as she raised her face to his. Harm gave a mental shrug, she was an attractive woman, and it was a just mistletoe kiss, just another Christmas tradition.  
But somehow it didn't quite work like that. As their lips met, he felt a pointed tongue probe the seal of his lips, and with a soft groan, he opened his mouth to her and let their tongues join in the dance.  
When they broke the kiss, minutes later so it seemed, they were on their own, except for Harriet, who with a bemused smile on her face, stood waiting to close the door.  
Both Harm and Meghan blushed red and almost fled the apartment, Meghan to join Loren in one of the Miatas and Harm to the Lexus where Coats stood waiting patiently for him.

Chaplain Turner's sermon and the voices of the choir, navy personnel all, gave Harm the chance to regain some of his poise as he sat in the same pew as Mac, with Coates between them, and it was with a feeling of peace that when the service ended, he rose and made his way outside, but his eyes, almost of their own accord sought out the blonde twins.  
Mac strolled out of the church with Coates alongside her. "Ma'am, why does the Commander go out on a limb like he does. I mean, he could have left me this evening and waited for the MPs to bring me back again."  
"Because he cares, Petty Officer, because he cares!"  
Harm was impatient to be off, he had one more, important call to make tonight, but he was restrained by the necessity to make polite small talk, but as he was thanking Chaplain Turner for his Christmas message, he was distracted by Mac.  
"Harm, look!" she exclaimed.  
Harm turned and did a classic double taker as a Rally Red Mako Shark, 1968 Corvette pulled up at the kerbside. The door opened and from under the convertible's top, Sturgis Turner emerged, a broad grin on his face.  
Harm strode down the walkway to the kerbside, "You had it, all the time?" he demanded and then his eye fell on the soft-top, the last missing piece.  
"Call, it my Christmas present to you!" Sturgis grinned.  
Harm pulled his friend into a hug, "You... you... " he said, for once lost for words. He looked around and saw his friends all grinning at his reaction.  
"Go on, take it for a spin, you know you want to!" Mac urged him, and then as she saw his eyes fall on Coates, she grinned, "Go on! The Petty Officer's staying with me for the whole holiday!"  
Harm fumbled in his pocket for the key to the Lexus, "Meghan, would you mind driving the Lexus home?"  
"Yeah, sure, OK," she said, wondering at the curious and somewhat shocked glances that everyone was sending at Harm, entirely unaware the he never let anyone else drive his cars.  
Harm went to turn back towards the Corvette, but as he did so, he was stopped by a hand on his arm and turning back he felt the press of lips on his cheek as Jennifer Coates stood on tip-toe to bestow a soft kiss on him. "Merry Christmas, sir!" she murmured.  
"Wow..." he breathed.  
"Could they throw me in the brig for that,sir?" she asked, her eyes dancing.  
"Yes, yes they could!" he told her.  
"It was worth it!" she smiled.

For once, Harm left the wall feeling at peace with himself and with the world at large. He was even smiling, albeit a smile tinged with sorrow and grief it was true, as he drove back towards the old warehouse building.  
On arrival, he carefully parked the 'vette in the garage and ensured that the sold brass padlock was secured before he entered the building and took the elevator to the second floor. Walking along the hallway, he stopped outside Meghan's door and knocked.  
"Who it it?" she called out.  
"Harm!" he answered.  
"One moment!"  
Harm's forehead creased as he heard what sounded like furniture being moved, and then the door opened to show a slightly breathless Meghan, still in the black dress she had worn to the Roberts'.  
Seeking some sort of explanation for the mysterious noises and Meghan's delay in answering the door he looked around until spied a pair of steps leaning against the wall just inside the door.  
"What on earth...?" he began.  
To his surprise, Meghan blushed, "I... uh... figured you'd come calling for your keys..." she faltered, "and I was trying to get this fixed before you arrived..." she self-consciously showed him a sprig of mistletoe that she held in her hand.  
"Oh..." Harm said eloquently, but then he rallied. "But we don't really need that, do we, Meghan?" he asked as he stepped into her apartment and gently back-heeled the door closed.  
"No, we don't!" she said firmly as she stepped into his arms and for the second time that evening raised her face for his kiss.


	4. Epilogue

"You want what?" the florist demanded in dismay.  
"We want mistletoe. We want it wrapped around the pillars in the church, and we want it as a binding on my bouquet," Meghan said firmly.  
"How am I going to get mistletoe in July?" the harassed woman asked despairingly.  
"Not our problem," Harm said unsympathetically, "You're the florist. However, if it's too difficult or you..."  
The florist has a brief nightmare of a handsome fee heading south trailing a plume of dust and swallowed, making one more valiant attempt to make the most stubborn couple she had ever met see reason.  
"But you're getting married!" she cried, "You don't need mistletoe!"  
"No we don't" Meghan agreed affably.  
"But we want it! Harm said firmly

The End


End file.
